


One Week

by MidwestWitch



Series: Snowflakes and Starlight [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: F/M, RPF, Romance, Warning: Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:05:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 140,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidwestWitch/pseuds/MidwestWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy Chance lives a quiet, studious life as a freelance writer in the remote area of western Michigan. She lives in solitude, trying to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible because Sammy is hiding a secret about a very popular actor… A secret that can’t be known by anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Present Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my pretties! This is my first grown up RPF and I chose to write about Tom Hiddleston. I hope you all enjoy. There may be some mature themes, but nothing completely off putting :)

Part I  
Present Day

I stare out the window of my small, two bedroom home hidden deep in the backwoods of the country. I love it out here. It is quiet and isolated, buried away from the prying eyes of people that I do not want to answer anymore. It is peaceful, something I desperately need for work and my sanity. There are just too many people asking questions, too many raised eyebrows, and I do not want to face it anymore. There’s no point.

I huff at the thought of my being forced out into the wilderness to begin with, but shake off the negative thoughts almost as soon as they enter my brain. I try my hardest to be a peaceful, happy person, especially at this point in my life. I’m a thirty-three year old woman, a person who has had the chance to experience a lot of things and really examine my life, attitude, and personality. They say that people can’t change, and in a sense, I guess that’s true, but people do grow. I certainly have. Probably ten years ago, you would have seen a much different person standing in this bay window, staring out at the stretch of forest in front of her. That girl would not be able to appreciate the simple, quiet beauty of nature, the peace that the silence brings. That girl would have worried constantly about the threats of this nature, she would have been consistently and deeply depressed about being separated from society in general, and she may have had a few good days, but they’d be few and far between.

I am happy that I’m not that person anymore.

I rub my arms, as I have just felt a chill, and walk back to the kitchen so I can finish my coffee at the table. I have a full day ahead of me. I work from home mostly as a writer. I write fantasy and supernatural romance for young adults, and while I may not be a New York Times best seller, I have a decent enough following and demand that it keeps the lights on in my small home. I can probably afford something bigger, but I choose to live simply. I like it this way.

Currently, I have a deadline to meet, but I make sure to schedule myself a few days here and there to sit back and enjoy life outside of the computer screen. If I didn’t do this for myself, I would lose my mind, clacking away as I hide myself away in a dark room. I need the break so I don’t start to despise my work, which is the last thing I want.

Fortunately, I have the forethought to schedule only a few absolutely necessary break days just in case life decides to intervene and keep me from my work for any number of hours, sometimes days. It’s happened in the past, but I tend not to let it weigh me down too heavily. There were many scrambled all-nighters, but instead of giving in and breaking, I accepted the challenge, remembering my days in college and attempting to enjoy every minute.

I sit back, sipping my coffee and closing my eyes as I hear the wind of the cool autumn day rustle through the many beautiful trees in my backyard. As I am nestled in the bosom of wilderness that is western Michigan, I experience every single season, from the heat of summer to the blizzard cold of winter. I absolutely adore it. I have lived in California and upon mentioning my home state, the most common question is, “Don’t you just love the weather out here?”

I learned quickly to just say yes, because trying to explain to someone who clearly has no idea what it’s like to be wrapped in a warm carriage as the snow gently falls onto your cheek or stepping outside and smelling the crisp, fall air, just knowing that pumpkins and apple cider are in fashion is just too impossible. I keep that stuff to myself. I don’t want to sway anyone to come traipsing through woods, when I love the peace and quiet. The pace of southern California is much too hectic for my lazy bones.

Before I am able to give in too fully to the serenity of this perfect morning, I hear my phone go off in the next room, where I have unwittingly left it. Sighing heavily, I set my coffee mug down and head into the living room, grabbing the phone one ring before it decides to switch to voice mail. I peer down at the caller ID, seeing the ridiculous portrait of my best friend that I’ve set as her contact picture. I grin and answer. “Hello?”

“There you are! Are you dead?” she squeaks out over the phone. She is obviously not actually panicked. She loves to tease me about the fact that I’m usually available to answer my phone on the first ring. This always makes her laugh, since it seems like I am desperate to take a phone call. This is why, whenever I’m late to pick up, I’m presumed dead.

“Yes, Molly, I’m dead. You are speaking to the spirit of Sammy Chance. Please leave a message at the ‘wooo!’” I exclaim, imitating a ghost.

“Funny. You’re funny,” she remarks, deadpan. “So did you stick to your schedule and give yourself the day off? Or are you going to flake on me again?”

“I am not going to flake on you. I have the day off, I promise,” I assure her. Like I said before, some of those days I schedule off don’t actually happen. Sometimes something happens I can’t control, and that’s unfortunate, especially for Molly. Our schedules are both so demanding that whenever we have a coinciding day off, she’s eager to make plans.

“All right, I’ll hold you to your word, then,” she warns. I only smile in response, knowing she is serious in this statement. “We’ll meet at the Java Hut in town again?”

I sigh heavily to this question. I don’t know how to express to Molly that I have no tolerance for the Java Hut anymore. It was here that I experienced all of the issues that drove me out to the wilderness in the first place. In this small town I live in, the Java Hut seems to be the central hub of young, popular culture, holding host to many a poetry slam, folk concert, book reading, or other such activities. There are always any number of young adults and teenagers (at times) perusing their individual rags and tabloids, watching current events on their laptops, phones, and iPads, just sitting on the edge of their seats as they wait for something exciting to happen. What they think will happen in this small Michigan town is beyond me. Or it was, until the day I moved to town and went into the Java Hut for a much needed caffeine boost.

“I guess,” I begrudgingly answer her, if just to end the conversation and placate my friend. She has been patient with me lately, and I owe her at least a favored meeting spot.

“Great. I’ll see you in an hour?”

“I’ll be there,” I say, hanging up and wandering back into my kitchen to sit for a moment. I am looking forward to this visit with Molly, and even though she has suggested this place that I so badly wish I could avoid, I have to admit that even that is little to keep me from this lunch date. The last few years it has been rare to grab one of these scheduled days off when I don’t have other things occupying my time.

I should explain. On top of my solitary existence in the woods, my wonderful position as a paranormal romance writer, and best friend to a sweet, albeit demanding young Irish woman, I am mother to a beautiful four year old daughter.

My sweetheart, the precious gem I was blessed with half a decade ago is the light of my life. I favor no relationships above the one we share as mother and daughter, and never plan to. It does not matter what I am missing out on as long as my daughter knows she is loved and cared for. I have vowed not to be one of those women who are so focused on obtaining a ‘father’ figure for my daughter that I forget to spend time with her. Nothing matters more than her.

Molly has been my best friend since we were in third grade, and while we have lived in separate states at various times in the course of our friendships, we have remained best friends all the same. She is, overall, the most supportive person I have on my side. I lost my parents many years ago, before my daughter was born, and I have no siblings to speak of.

Molly is all I have. She has been my rock, helping me through my pregnancy when I had no one else and encouraging me in the ways I’ve needed most, raising my daughter alone. There were so many things I went through when I found out I was pregnant. At the time, I was still living in California and I was scared and alone. Molly encouraged me to come back home to Michigan as quickly as I could before the pregnancy progressed any further. It took some doing, but we were able to get me home within the next eight weeks.

The situation in itself was tense, and while Molly didn’t pressure me for what had happened to get me in this position, I made sure to tell her everything. After all, she was the one and only person I could trust and knew would keep my secret. She understood and I was thankful that I had told her. I realized after I did it that I needed to get all of this off of my chest. She was the only person that I told, the one person that knew exactly what had happened and all of the feelings and emotions I had regarding the situation in its entirety. At least, that was I assumed…

Molly’s mentioning of Java Hut has brought up a lot of memories I am trying so hard to repress. I recall what happened upon my arrival and subsequent visit to the café. It is still hard to stomach and I cannot possibly imagine it going any differently the next time I set foot in there. It was actually something that occurred probably the fourth or fifth time I went in, when I began to relax a bit, let my guard down, and show my face.

I was instantly recognized from a picture taken in a magazine years before, a picture that I had learned about a few months after my daughter was born back home in Michigan. I was never much for following celebrity chatter and online entertainment blogs or anything of that nature. I had no use for it, and still don’t, for the most part. Besides, I was far too wrapped up in my pregnancy and preparing for impending motherhood that all thoughts of social media and internet web searches left my mind entirely.

So I had learned to keep a low profile, trying to keep my secret from being discovered. There was just so much more to what was going on with me than I wanted to expose. If I allowed full exposure, I would open myself up to the insufferable leeches that were the paparazzi, and making my daughter endure any of that was just too much to bear. I assumed that moving west to a small town Molly had discovered when she was looking for a new place to settle was a great idea. After all, there were bound to be fewer people in a small town, lessening the chances that anyone would remember a stupid picture taken almost five years before. Then again, it had been an awfully popular picture, peppering numerous magazine covers, internet blogs, and social media websites. It was inescapable for a while and from time to time would resurface.

This was my folly, assuming that I was safe in a place where there weren’t many people around. I took off the beanie and sunglasses after coming in that day, ordering a seasonal latte from the menu, my beautiful cherub in tow. She was distracted by the colorful holiday decorations posted up on the bar that separated customers from the baristas serving the coffee. After informing the cashier of what I wanted, I realized that my daughter had wandered too far and I needed to retrieve her. I ran after her, swooping her up into my arms quickly and without much fuss, and in doing so, my loose ponytail fell and my hair fell in cascades against my cheek. I am a natural blonde, and over the years the natural tone of my hair has darkened somewhat, like most blondes. I usually loved getting my hair highlighted to accentuate the blonde, but it hadn’t been like that in many years. After moving to this new town and settling in, finally happy and sturdy, I decided to frost my hair once more. It was an early Christmas present for myself.

Unfortunately, the number of years I hadn’t paid attention to my hair coincided with that damned picture. I was so wrapped up in collecting my daughter, coffee, and paying for said beverage, that I completely forgot to keep a low profile. Several people had watched as I collected my toddler, only stopping briefly to smile before turning back to their own business. However, there was at least one person with their eyes intently boring into me, and that person was the cashier.

I can still remember clear as day the moment my heart fell into my chest as I realized I had been discovered. The cashier narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously, a glint of recognition sparkling in them. I noticed, but pretended not to, desperately hoping I could escape before the pieces clicked together in her head. But then, the inevitable happened.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“Um, I don’t think so, I’m new to the city,” I said, averting my gaze the best I could. My daughter was uninterested in the conversation, turning her head in the hopes to escape so she could pull at the shiny garland again.

“No, no I definitely know you…” she trailed off, and I tried to give her my money and retreat from her penetrating gaze. She was far too involved in connecting the dots to see the currency in my hand. “Oh now I know! That picture!”

And that was it. The moment I knew my time in this town was tarnished. After this cashier loudly announced how she remembered me, several other onlookers realized they knew as well, and not too long after this, the scrutiny began. It was bad enough that I was under the microscope, but that much I could take. It was when those eyes turned to my daughter that it was really unacceptable. Before the whispers could get too loud and jaws could drop, I forgot my coffee, put my hand over my daughter’s face, and ducked out of the Java Hut so quickly that I forgot my beanie and sunglasses on the counter.

I come back to myself quite dramatically, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. That day back then was such a nightmare, and as I emerged from the coffee place, dashing to my car as quickly as possible, I noticed that thankfully, my daughter had not been affected by anything that had just occurred. I assume it was all too fast for her, and she was much more distracted by the twinkling Christmas lights than anything that had happened.

As I piled myself into the car that day, I sighed in relief and set out for home, intent on keeping us out of the spotlight for as long as possible.

I know now, as I sit at the kitchen table, sipping the last drops of my coffee, that at some point, I have to stop running from it. Someone, somewhere, is not only going to recognize me and figure out the truth, but they are going to have the knowledge and know how to contact a reporter. After that, it’s all downhill and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I sigh and pick up my phone, checking the time. It’s been about twenty minutes since I ended my conversation with Molly, and I still need to take a shower before I get ready to meet her at the Java Hut. I’m thankful that my daughter doesn’t need to be picked up from preschool until two that afternoon. It is close to Halloween and they are having an assembly at the school. Molly may come with me to pick her up, as she hasn’t seen my sweetheart in a while either, so I know the day will be fun.

I finish getting ready quickly, fling myself into my black Dodge sedan, and peel out of the driveway. I’m already running a little late as it is and making Molly wait will just increase the guilt I already feel. I get to the Java Hut in record time and don’t spot her car anywhere around. I weigh the options in my mind, debate on either staying in the car or going in and risking exposure again for a coffee. I feel that it is much easier and less stressful to just sit here, but then again, I really am in need of some caffeine.

I sit there for a while, staring ahead and running through all of the possible scenarios in my mind. I don’t know what could possibly happen if I get recognized. At the very least, I don’t have my daughter with me, and no inferences can be drawn between the picture and my little one. Then again, I could run into someone who remembers that I have a four year old, and consider the implications of the age versus the date the picture was printed…

Before I have the chance to make up my mind, I see Molly’s car pull up. She hasn’t spotted me yet, and instead of looking around for my car, she hops out, locks her doors, and heads straight into the coffee shop. I sigh, a smile playing at the corner of my lips. She’s unbelievable. I know what she’s doing. Ever since I told her what was going on, she has been on my case to do the right thing. She knows that the truth can’t be kept quiet forever.

Inevitably, I know she is right.

Resigning myself to the inevitable, I exit the car, cross the street, and make my way into the Java Hut. Molly has already ordered her drink and is busy with her phone, presumably texting me. I clear my throat, breaking her focus and as she looks up, she smiles widely. “Hey, you came in! I was just getting ready to text you!”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the huge grin that spreads across my face. I step closer to her and embrace her, suddenly overcome with the unconditional warmth I feel whenever I’m in the presence of my best friend.

“I figured I might as well chance it, since you didn’t even remember to look for me,” I say to her sarcastically.

She smirks at me. “I didn’t even think about looking for you. I just wanted my cappuccino so bad…” she trails off and I know immediately that what I had assumed she was trying to do was true.

I shake my head at her, stepping up to the counter, trying to take care and at least be a little conspicuous as I order and then turn to my friend to ask her how it’s going. We talk as I pay and wait for my coffee. I begin to realize as we chat how much I have missed her the past few weeks. We’ve just been too busy with our lives to meet up again, and this is a shame. I vow right then to make a concerted effort to get together with Molly far more often, no matter what the circumstance.

I retrieve my latte and we head out the door, and as we do I breathe a sigh of relief that no one had recognized me. It makes me happy that I didn’t have to deal with it, but for some reason, after thinking about what Molly was trying to do, I feel the teeniest, tiniest bit of disappointment.

Maybe there’s a small part of me that wishes I would be found out so that I didn’t have to carry this lie with me anymore. It’s hard to be the person that has to carry the weight of all of it, and even though I’ve told Molly what’s going on and she knows the truth, it doesn’t seem to matter. Avoiding public situations and not going out do have a negative effect after a while, but I care what my daughter will grow up learning. In the end, the person who suffers the most from all of this is my daughter.

If I keep this up, my baby girl will never know her father.


	2. Five Years Ago: Day One

Five Years Ago…  
Day One

Samantha Chance readjusted the strap of her bright pink cocktail dress and took a deep breath. It was already a stressful, albeit eventful weekend, and going to the hotel bar by herself was probably just asking for trouble. She knew that a single, attractive woman in a bright colored, slinky number was practically begging to be picked up, and if there was one thing she wanted to avoid tonight, it was unwanted innuendo and too much male attention.

Then again, if that were really the truth, she wouldn’t have slipped into the pink dress in the first place.

Sammy walked up to the bar and took a seat that was unoccupied and the stares began almost instantly as she leaned over and ordered a mojito as her opening drink. She wasn’t much of a big drinker, but as she was springing for this private vacation in San Diego to spoil herself and gain a little perspective, she thought she could afford a few drinks. It wasn’t as though she had anywhere to drive.

An oily man that Sammy suspected had done this many, many times before leaned over and smirked at her slyly. “Why don’t you let me get that drink for you, sweetheart?” he said, his voice dripping with so much of that slick filth that it was everything Sammy could do to avoid cringing.

“That’s very generous of you, sir, but I’m capable of purchasing my own beverage, thank you,” she said, trying her hardest not to put an edge to her voice. She knew that many men, like this one, assumed when you walked into a bar with a dress that hugged your curves and accentuated your cleavage the only discernible reason was that she wanted someone to ply her with alcohol and take advantage of her.

It made her sick that women like that even existed at all.

He sneered at her, clearly not used to being turned down. “In a dress like that –” he began.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m asking for it, right? You know who else says that? Rapists,” she shot back, this time not disguising the anger in her tone.

He shot her one last withering look before taking his small tumbler of scotch and walking away. Sammy sat back, her heart thudding in her chest from the adrenaline of the confrontation and was quite pleased with herself. She was never really good at telling people off, but somehow, the lessons of the last few years had taught her a thing or two about standing up for herself, no matter how someone may or may not view her after she spoke her piece.

As she sipped her mojito, she took the moment to reflect back on that very hard learned lesson. The end of the entire ordeal had led her to this San Diego hotel and the weekend she was spending here by herself. Not only was it a spiritual trek of sorts so that she could figure things out in her head, but it was a reward for coming out the other side of something that would forever change her.

These were the pitfalls of divorce.

Sammy thought about Zach Newman, the boy she had fallen in love with in high school, followed around until graduation, and then eventually settled down and married. He was beautiful, athletic, and so deliciously charming that it became evident after they were married for a while that his GPA was not the reason Zach was able to graduate on time with his classmates.  
It didn’t matter to her, though. She made the fatal mistake of worshipping a man for all the wrong reasons. He was one of the more popular kids in the school, someone she had always known but had never really had any interaction with up until their junior year of high school. Sammy wasn’t much for the popular crowd, but wasn’t herself so unpopular or different back then that she invited scorn. She was herself as much as she could be in adolescence, so finally catching the attention of a jock when she was trying so hard not to impress anyone was amazing on top of everything.

They met when Sammy was on the school newspaper. She was set with the task of writing an article about the lacrosse team, and in so doing, had to interview several of the players. Zach Newman happened to be one of those players, and he was so taken with her that he asked her if she wanted to ‘hang out’ later after school. Sammy knew the moment he gave her that special lopsided smile that she was a goner.

The two of them were inseparable for the next two years. Senior year was important for Sammy. She wanted to figure her life out, go to college, get a degree in journalism and from there, get a good job at a newspaper. She knew full well that this aspiration would probably take her outside of Michigan entirely, and she was anxious to spread her wings. Unfortunately, things would not quite pan out this way.

Sammy had applied to many local schools to save money and a couple she wasn’t holding out much hope for in California. She merely did this to appease her parents, since her father had served in the Air Force and was stationed at Edwards, any children would receive cheaper tuition rates to any California universities. She and Zach were still together at this time, and he had applied to a few colleges, but didn’t get into any of them. His charm was not enough to get him admissions with his poor transcripts and less than average ACT scores. Unfortunately, his athletic skills left something to be desired as well, as he was offered no scholarship like many of his other friends in school.

Sammy was determined to get Zach on the right track. She knew now, looking back, that she was hanging onto the first good looking, popular guy that returned her affections somewhat. She also knew that this was a man that many other women wanted, and if she could be the one to settle him down and make him a better person, it would in turn, make her a better person.

Ah, the inner workings of the teenaged female brain.

It backfired horribly, of course. Due to his lack of options, Zach eventually came to the decision to join the Marine Corps. Upon his contract to enter, he proposed marriage to Sammy, telling her he just didn’t want to do this without her. Being an eighteen year old love struck idiot, instead of heeding advice from her family, friends, and inner voice, she readily accepted. Zach went off to boot camp and was assigned to his permanent duty station in Camp Pendleton, California. Sam had put off her acceptance to college, waiting for Zach to be assigned somewhere before she made a decision. Eventually, she was accepted to California State University and chose an extension near the base.

Once they were there and settled, it seemed that everything was going to be the perfect pie in the sky dream for Zach and Sammy. She was greatly enjoying her classes, excelling, and he was really starting to like the Marine Corps. Eventually, they agreed, together, that Zach was doing so well in the military that he should try and stick it out and make a career of it. However, the second he signed those reenlistment papers, everything changed.

They’d been married for four years already, had survived two overseas deployments, celebrated when Sammy graduated from California State with a bachelor’s in journalism and creative writing, and were on their way to starting a family. Sammy assumed that the rest of her life was going to be amazing. 

Unfortunately, within the first six months of Zach’s second enlistment, his attitude changed completely. It seemed as though he were withdrawing from her, like he had tired of her company almost. He was moody, disrespectful, and sometimes, just plain mean. Sammy was still enamored of him, but after a few months of his irritable attitude, she decided she’d had enough. When she confronted him, she expected him to realize the error of his ways and make the decision to be less short-tempered and appreciate her more. After all, she had walked away from everything she knew back home, the schools she wanted to go to, and people she loved to come out here and be with him. She could have just as easily told him no. He should appreciate her.

But instead, he told her she was being stupid. He completely disregarded every legitimate gripe she had, increasing the distance and giving her the cold shoulder even more often. Sammy began to feel as though she were stuck in something that she couldn’t get out of. She felt suffocated and growing more and more angry and discontented as the months wore on. It seemed as though there was no end in sight.

The day she came home from work early, Sammy would later realize, was a blessing in disguise. She was so sickened and stressed from the constant worry and depression about her failing marriage and the realization that she was probably stuck forever. She couldn’t just give up when she had made a commitment to this man; after all, it was supposed to be for better or for worse. The rough patch, hopefully, would subside.

It had been an easy day at work. Sammy had secured a pretty cozy entry level job writing obituaries for the local newspaper. She was hoping to steadily work up the ranks there, but was thankful for even the smallest opportunity in her field. That, at least, was going well. She came home early that Friday to begin her holiday weekend. She had been hoping to have a nice four day weekend with her husband, as he had Monday off, to reconnect. Zach, apparently, had other plans. He’d brought a fellow Marine home with him, and was having the time of his life in their shared bed. When she caught him, he didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Things after that progressed pretty quickly. Because they weren’t living on base and had decided, definitively, to file for divorce, Zach would lose his housing allowance and be forced to live in the barracks on base. For the most part, her husband at least relinquished the apartment to her. It was the most he would do in the entire divorce process that indicated he was taking any blame for what happened. Sammy, of course, would have to take on a roommate to pay the bills, but she felt at least somewhat comforted at being able to keep her home.

For Sammy, it took so much to get her through the entire process. There was more to it than she had expected. They had no mutual assets, no children, and nothing they were going to fight over, so it should have been pretty easy and straight forward. Only for Sammy, the emotional toll it would take was more than enough punishment to make it plenty hard.

The first thing Sammy felt was the numbness. She really couldn’t believe that it was over, after a little over five years of marriage. He was her high school sweetheart, the one and only boy she’d ever loved, and the fact that she was going to be alone for the first time in her adult life was too much to bear.

Shortly after that, she felt the anger welling up. How could he do this to her? Ask her to marry him, want her with him while he goes through the military, and then abandon her completely, physically and emotionally? Why didn’t she see his womanizing sooner? The fact that he was a charmer, all the ladies he could manipulate into doing whatever he wanted with a little smile? The more she thought about it, the more she came to realize that this was probably not the first time he had cheated on her…

And that was when the depression was triggered, right around the time they were starting to meet in person with the mediator. The fact that she had to face him over and over, remembering all of the things she still loved about him, the things she was going to miss. After the divorce was final, it took Sammy a while to really accept the fact that she was no longer going to have a companion. That was probably the toughest part of all of it. Not that the actual relationship was over, because she’d had other relationships end before, but the fact that someone was not going to be there with her always.

It took some time, but finally, Sammy came out of her depression, anger, and anything else she had been feeling, and decided to take the next step forward in her life. She knew she wasn’t looking for anything other than a way to advance her career. This made her happy. She didn’t know if she could give herself so fully to another man, ever, and she wasn’t sure if she could fully trust anyone. She thought she knew who Zach was. She knew him when he was young and grew with him, thinking, the entire time that she knew him. Obviously, she was wrong. How could she look herself in the mirror if she made that mistake a second time?

Her entire world was finally starting to right itself. She wanted more from her job, but things could only go so fast, she guessed. It didn’t really matter. That wasn’t what she wanted to focus on. All she wanted to do right now was sort through the mangled mess that was her mind and figure out exactly what to do next. She needed to really take a look at herself. After all, Zach wasn’t the only one in that relationship. Obviously, she must have done something wrong somewhere in the relationship to let it go the way it did, and that was something she needed to figure out before she could even think about giving another man a chance.

It was actually her roommate, a nice young woman that Sammy had come to like a lot, that suggested she take a weekend for herself and go sort things out. The timing couldn’t have been better, because she had just scored a weekend pass for Comic Con, and she was eager to see it.

She’d taken some of the money she had saved during her marriage and sprung for a nicer hotel down in San Diego than the one in which a greater number of the attendants would be staying, packed her nicest outfits, a few shirts to portray her underlying geekiness, and headed out.

Now she was here, in the bar at her hotel after a particularly hectic, madhouse day in the convention center and was happy to unwind. She also didn’t mind feeling so drop dead gorgeous in this dress.

She sat back in her chair at the bar, sipping on the mojito and taking in the people around her. The bar was busy, no doubt full of other Comic-Con attendants that had a little more cash to throw around. It was okay, she didn’t mind the hustle and bustle. She enjoyed being a spectator to the commotion. It gave her a second to step back from herself and relax.

It didn’t take long before another man was occupying the seat next to her, offering friendly comments and asking to buy her drinks. Instead of being rude again and brushing them off, she accepted the fact that this was supposed to be a compliment, and while she smiled and conversed, she confessed to them before they spent too much money on her that she had no intention of leaving with anyone tonight. Most understood and still enjoyed her company before politely excusing themselves. Some were a little less courteous, but it didn’t bother her. She’d rather be kind and up front about her intentions, unlike the men who were hoping to get lucky after chucking out $12 for a mojito.

After the fifth man that had moved on after being turned down, Sammy couldn’t help but sit back and take a deep breath. She knew it was going to continue until she left, but she really needed even a moment of peace. Unfortunately, things were about to get a lot more interesting.

“Do you need another drink?” the bartender asked her, noticing her empty glass.

She had already bought two drinks for herself and was starting to feel the effects of the rum hitting her head. She knew she should slow down, but as she considered the offer and looked around the bar, Sammy decided it was worth the risk. She hadn’t actually had enough alcohol to get drunk in years, and she had nowhere to drive and no one to look after but herself. Why not?

“Sure, I’ll take another,” she said, beaming. At least two more of these and she would be feeling pretty good. She didn’t want to drink too much, though, because the sugar was bound to make her feel very sick afterward.

Sammy paid for her cocktail and sat back. She was finally relaxing, enjoying herself in the bar, somewhere she hadn’t been for so long. She and Zach had married so young that she really hadn’t had a chance to be single and hit the bars to scope out her prospects. Maybe it wasn’t the best or classiest way to meet people, but it was somewhat of a rite of passage she hadn’t gotten to experience.

Before she relaxed too much, she witnessed two very drunk men wandering into the bar, or rather, wobbling. They looked as though they’d already had far too much to drink, and were told as much by the bartender when they tried to order again.

The first man, red faced and belligerent in his intoxication started raising his voice, demanding he be served. Calmly, the bartender repeated that he would not serve him and would call security if they didn’t leave. Sammy watched all of this, amused at the situation. She could now see clearly the pitfalls of barhopping in your single days… Then again, the screaming man had a ring on his finger.

While all of this exchange only took a matter of seconds, Sammy witnessed the second, even drunker man, notice her. His eyebrows shot up as his gaze shot directly to her chest. Much to her horror, Sammy even saw the man lick his lips slightly. She sat, holding her breath, waiting for everything to blow over, when she saw the man take a drunken step toward her.

Oh no, don’t come over here, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t… she silently prayed to herself. The closer he got, the more Sammy wished she had the nerve to just stand up and knock the man over on her rush to leave. He didn’t look all too steady on his feet. However, before her brain could make a decision on what to make her body do, the man was standing so close she could smell every drop of cheap beer on his breath. She had to cringe at the stench of it.

“Hey there, toots,” he said, his speaking so slurred Sammy wished for a moment she had subtitles to understand him. “Lemme buy you a drink?”

This time, Sammy lost all pretenses of manners and curled her nose up at him. “I don’t think so,” and tried to turn away from him. Sammy felt her entire body run cold with fear when the man stepped closer, and not taking no for an answer, grabbed her upper arm forcefully and swung her back around.

“I said let me buy you a drink,” he growled at her, his speech slightly less slurred in his anger.

Sammy felt the panic rising up the back of her neck. She knew the best thing to do was probably to just comply, and hope that someone who was witnessing what was going on around her had the foresight to call security before he became any more violent. She opened her mouth to appease him, when another voice interjected.

“I believe the lady told you no,” came a lilting British accent from behind Sammy. In her fright, Sammy thought his voice may have sounded a little familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. There were more pressing matters at hand anyway.

“Why should I listen to you, Union Jack?” the guy slurred confidently, but he still took a step back. Sammy assumed the man coming to her defense was somewhat imposing, but he was behind her and she couldn’t bring her body to move a single muscle to turn and get a good look.

“Because, my friend, you are quite inebriated,” he said simply, taking a step forward. “I think it’s best if you leave here and go sleep it off.”

“I don’t need to listen to you,” the man mumbled, but Sammy could tell his resolve was crumbling.

“I think it’s better if you do, sir,” British mystery man said.

It took a minute for the man to register what was going on before security showed up, as the bartender promised, to escort them from the bar. Sammy calmed considerably when they finally left, and took a deep breath before she was going to turn and thank her unexpected savior. She swiveled around in her chair and pressed a hand against her chest, trying to quell her pounding heart.

“Are you all right, miss?” he asked before she had a chance to open her eyes and deliver a heartfelt thanks. The familiarity of his voice struck her ears again, and she searched desperately to place it before she opened her eyes and peered up at him.

Any attempt to stop her fluttering heart was now thrown away completely when she saw the face of this British mystery man, who was smiling down at her. It would have only taken her another second to realize just where she knew the voice.

It was Tom Hiddleston, the actor known for his role as Loki from Marvel’s The Avengers movie and the Thor movie franchise. She wasn’t exactly a rabid fan of the Marvel universe, being more of a DC comic lover herself. However, she had made it a point to see the movies, so was well aware of who this man was. It made sense that he was here at Comic-Con, what with the release of The Avengers this year. Tom Hiddleston was on his way to becoming an incredibly hot commodity.

And yet he had time to rescue damsels in distress at hotel bars.

Now, upon seeing him in person, she definitely had to admit that if she were some drunken idiot, she would have been intimidated as well. He stood at an impressive height (she thought she read somewhere that he was around six-two) and was much broader than she imagined, even without the Loki armor adorning his figure. While his body was definitely imposing and plenty intimidating for anyone trying to cross him, but that wasn’t even close to what was so magnificently striking about him.

His magnificence was in the way his handsome, angular face absolutely lit up with even the tiniest of smiles. Each one was sweet, comforting, and always reached his sea blue eyes completely. Sammy couldn’t help but feel the encompassing waves of warmth that seemed to emanate from this man. This was yet another thing you couldn’t tell from a movie.

“I’m all right, thank you,” she whispered, trying to avert her gaze from his. She knew she was starting to flush and the last thing she wanted to do was start stammering like an idiot, acting like one of those star struck fan girls he had to contend with every waking minute of every day.

“I’m Tom, by the way,” he said, extending a hand to her. She peered down at his hand, took notice of his long fingers, and extended her own hand out to his. Sammy forced herself to look into his eyes and not act like a drooling idiot.

“I know who you are,” she whispered to him. The moment their hands touched, a feeling passed through Sammy unlike any she had ever known before, a feeling that resonated deep in her heart. It was so deep and intense that she had to take a moment before she could speak again. It was as if somehow, somewhere, this was meant to happen. “I’m Samantha Chance, but everyone calls me Sammy.”

His smile widened a little more, this time revealing a full set of pearly white teeth. She hadn’t seen many pictures of him out of makeup, but the few she had, he was beaming like this. He was one of those rare people that smiled so entirely that everyone else around him felt better. “If it’s all right with you, I prefer Samantha. Much prettier.”

The blush crept up Sammy’s cheeks once again, this time humbled by the compliment. “Thank you.”

He gestured toward the chair when their hands finally broke apart. “Is anyone sitting here?”

Sammy wanted to drop her jaw in amazement. She knew that she wasn’t an ugly woman by any means and never lacked in the personality department. She was a good person, deserving of friends and love and all that life had to offer to her. But never in a thousand years did she expect that she would attract the attention of a celebrity, especially someone as sought after as Tom Hiddleston.

“Of course not,” she said, scooting over slightly to allow him in. His height and long legs made it hard for him to simply slide in, and as she made room for him, she tried telling herself over and over to keep cool, and act as though his celebrity didn’t matter to her. She’d already told him she was aware of him, so there was no taking that back. Now she had to make sure she didn’t seem too ridiculous.

“Thank you,” he said, shooting her that smile again. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment or two before the bartender came over, asking him what he wanted. “I’ll take a Long Island iced tea, and the lady will have a mojito,” he said. Sammy was taken aback. He peered over at her, shooting that wide grin again. “Sorry, I had a feeling that’s what you were drinking. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no, it’s all right,” she said, amazed that of all the other men that had come and gone tonight with all of their varying degrees of attractiveness, this man was the first she had allowed to buy her a drink. “Thank you,” she said, and then decided to try for cool. “I’m only halfway through this drink, but I definitely needed another one.”

He looked down and saw that she was, indeed, holding a practically full drink in her hand. She hadn’t had much time to work on it before the two drunken men had staggered in. He laughed then, shaking his head. What he said next would be the one thing that would haunt Sammy for many years to come.

“I am so sorry, it must be my nerves or something,” and Tom Hiddleston, in all his glory, gave her the sweetest, most embarrassed smile she’d ever seen a man give her.

“Your nerves?” she asked him. “Come on, I’m not that intimidating!” Sammy was, for the most part, flattered.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen here. Why wouldn’t I be intimidated?” He seemed unfazed by the comment as the drinks came and he slid her drink down to her.

“I don’t know what to say,” Sammy said. The decision she had to remain cool was long gone now, as the alcohol had started to work its truth telling magic on her. “As a woman, you don’t ever think that Tom Hiddleston is going to sit next to you and just tell you you’re beautiful.”

“No, not just beautiful. The most beautiful,” he corrected, smiling as he took a test sip of his cocktail.

“Well, whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes and trying to stop the satisfied grin that wanted to slide onto her lips.

“No, not ‘whatever,’” he repeated, giggling at her. His accent made everything that came out of his mouth almost lyrical. “And what does it matter who I may or may not be? At the end of the day, I’m still a man, a young man at that, and I have my opinions and my interests, just like any other man. Tonight, I am not an actor, all right?. I’m Tom, a thirty-one year old ginger haired man from London that has just happened upon a stunning woman in pink who needed my assistance. Why wouldn’t I do the noble thing and rescue her if only to win her favor?” he finished, gesturing widely at this statement, as though he were a knight waving his lady’s token.

Sammy immediately decided she loved listening to him speak. Everything that came out of his mouth was witty, intelligent, and sophisticated all at the same time. She was so drawn in listening to him that she forgot to respond to him. When she came back to herself, she took a deep breath and answered, “That sounds…” she searched for the meaning in his statement. If you stripped away the layers of his celebrity status, the meaning in any public statement he made, the movies he’d worked on, and the gaggle of female groupies, he was merely a man. He was a man that saw a woman who needed rescuing, an attractive woman no less, and the testosterone started flowing, bringing about that male need to swoop in and protect a damsel in distress. Put simply, he wanted to impress her. Sammy smiled once she came to this final conclusion, and she turned her smirk to Tom, and answered him honestly. “Sounds pretty typical.”

He gestured his hands wide, as if to say ‘See?’ “Relax. I’m incredibly typical.”

Sammy did relax after that, and had to admit that keeping that little fact in mind helped her remain with herself. As the night went on, Sammy did find that she would occasionally realize that Tom was who he was and she would have to catch herself, remembering that he wasn’t ‘actor Tom’ right now.

Within the first drink, they were both feeling good enough to move from the bar and to a more private booth in the back. They were greatly enjoying one another’s company. They had begun their conversation with the usual twenty questions and exploded from there. It seemed, to Sammy at least, that she and Tom had a great back and forth, and she hadn’t enjoyed talking to someone this much in what seemed like forever. It was just easy.

Even though Sammy was on her fourth mojito, it didn’t take Tom too long to catch up in terms of drunkenness. He explained to her that while he was usually a Guinness drinker, he was treating himself for his work on that very long weekend. Because of this, he had opted for the stronger Long Islands, which were all chock full of every imaginable clear liquor on the shelf. He vowed with the next one he was going to slow down so that they wouldn’t get too drunk and stupid while they were still sitting downstairs, in a very public bar.

Sammy knew that the alcohol in her blood was definitely making her head swim. Every time she drank, she loosened up and lost some of her inhibitions, like any other woman, but she knew the alcohol wasn’t entirely to blame for how funny Tom really was. Alcohol or no, he was an incredibly charming and hilarious guy. Stripped of his cachet and the subsequent intimidation of said cachet, Sammy knew that Tom Hiddleston would have been someone she befriended instantly in any other situation. They seemed to be on the same wavelength, a fact that, after a little while, couldn’t be ignored any longer.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I have to interrupt you and say this,” Sammy said in between bouts laughter. “It seems like we’re… I don’t know, like we’re reading each other’s minds. I’m not the only one that feels this, am I?” Sammy suddenly realized that the alcohol could be entirely to blame for making her feel this connection and therefore, making her sound like a total idiot. Her skin prickled ice cold with fear, awaiting the response.

Instead of a faltered smile, a confused expression, or narrowed eyes, Tom’s face lit up, his grin grew wider, and he leaned in, appearing for a second like he wanted to reach out for her hand before he rethought the decision. “I completely agree with you… Do you believe that people are meant to cross paths in their lifetimes, or do you believe purely in coincidence?”

Sammy sat back, furrowing her brow as she considered what he was asking. If she was completely honest, she’d never really thought it through. Her opinion of fate and destiny didn’t extend very far. After all, she’d only ever really loved one person, so her idea of what was meant to be and what wasn’t had been so wrapped up in that relationship that she’d kind of lost sight of her own opinions. What he was proposing made sense, though. Her mother had always said that everything happened for a reason, and while she didn’t understand the words when she was growing up, now that she was out here in California, divorced and recovering, she had to cling to those words to give her some semblance that things were supposed to work out for her. Tom seemed to have a point. Maybe two people are meant to cross paths, meant to give something to one another; whether if it’s for a brief moment or for the rest of their lives.

She came back to herself, glancing at the big, entrancing blue green eyes that peered at her, waiting on bated breath for an answer. “I think so.”

His face softened at her response and he smiled again. “I’m so glad to hear it,” he sat back against the booth, relief settling into his shoulders. Or maybe that was more alcohol hitting his blood. It was hard to tell at this point. “I was afraid you would think I’d gone mad or something.”

“Of course not,” she answered him, stretching out across the table a little bit to show him how relaxed she was. “I mean, to be honest, your theory makes a lot of sense to me,” she told him.

“It does?”

“Yeah, why not?” Sammy took a deep breath. Up until this point, their conversations had been fun and engaging, but mostly superficial. They talked about likes and dislikes and their opinions on a slew of other shallow topics, but there was nothing of substance to the conversation quite yet. She realized now that they were about to cross that territory, whether she wanted to or not. “My mother always used to say that everything happens for a reason. If I didn’t believe it before, I have to now, otherwise everything I’ve gone through would put me into a state of depression that I’d never claw my way out of. If I believe that everything happens for a reason, like there’s a design to the universe, then I must believe that certain people are brought into my life to make some kind of substantial dent in it as well. How else could I explain this thing between us?”

There was so much to what Sammy had just said that she watched Tom’s face register all of it, take it in, and then try and decide exactly what to comment on first. Sammy felt as though she wasn’t quite ready to open up all of her wounds for this man she had only meant a couple of hours ago. Unwittingly, she may have done just that by thinly veiling her deeper issues in that one statement.

No matter how magnanimous his presence and how easy this conversation was between them, it didn’t erase the fact that Sammy wanted to her issues to remain just that, hers. She really felt that some wounds were just too fresh to reopen. Both of her parents had died in a car accident only a couple of years before, and now she had this divorce hanging over her head, still raw and fresh in her mind, almost too close to the surface to break open yet.

The thought of what he was about to say was killing her, but she let him take his time answering her. After all, she was the one that had opened up this line of questioning, so she had to be okay with answering his questions. She absolutely detested when people brought something up and then refused to speak about it, almost as though they were desperate for the attention their problems brought them, and then the attention they received from people trying to drag it out of them. Melodrama was not Sammy’s thing.

The next words out of Tom’s mouth seemed simple and sweet, but for Sammy, they resonated so deeply that she would always remember them. It was as though they were right about their connection, because he seemed to sense her hesitance and understood it completely. Tom gave her a smaller, kinder smile this time, and whispered, “Whatever it is we have between us is certainly special.”

This time when he extended his hand to her, she took it.


	3. Present Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry for the slow update, what with the holiday coming up it's been a bit crazy! I hope you all stick through some of these present day chapters. Even though they don't feature Tom, they are vital to the story.
> 
> I'll have another 'past' chapter uploaded very soon. I've almost got Part One finished completely, so hopefully it'll be completely posted before Christmas. Thanks for reading and enjoy!!

Present Day

I sit with Molly at an outside café, stirring my chicken Caesar salad pointlessly. I have only had one or two bites from it, and I doubt I’ll want to eat any longer. Molly hasn’t really noticed my silence quite yet. She has a lot to get off of her chest, a lot she wants to share, and because I haven’t been around lately to hear it, I can’t blame her for prattling on almost endlessly for the last forty-five minutes.

I have interjected here and there, when the conversation needed it. For the most part, I am listening to her. She is mostly talking about her job, though, so there’s not much I can do but just nod and smile at most of what she’s saying, because I don’t understand the intricacies of what her job entails. She has explained it to me a million times, but I know I have yet to fully understand what it is she does.

My mind is still preoccupied with my previous realizations. While I was in the Java Hut, desperate not to be seen, it hit me that Molly had probably been right all along. She thought it was stupid of me to keep the secret any longer. It made sense at this point. My daughter was only four, but she was coming to the age where she was starting to notice that some of the other kids in school had daddies, and she didn’t. It was only a matter of time before she developed the necessary language skills and social maturity to ask me herself. What was I going to tell her? Sorry, sweetie, your daddy is a famous actor and because of our circumstances at the time of your conception, we couldn’t be together, and there’s probably never a chance we’ll be together again… That wasn’t a viable option, and I certainly wasn’t going to lie to my daughter for the better part of her life because the whole situation was just too painful for me to discuss.

The truth is, my daughter’s father is my soul mate, the be all, end all man that I will always love and measure every other man up to. Even my ex-husband Zach, the other man I truly believe I loved will never measure up to my true soul mate. He was, and still is, the one person I can never have but will always want.

Because he is still as popular now as he was five years ago (if not more so) it is almost impossible to avoid him from time to time. I do my best to stray from the Internet searches I used to do almost obsessively. The only thing that accomplished was the crushing depression when I saw him there, without me, or god forbid, with someone else on his arm.

His forays with other women weren’t frequent, but I have learned my lesson the hard way when it comes to that. I was eight months pregnant when I did my final inquisitive search for him and came across a picture of him with some gorgeous brunette, the caption underneath the picture a rumor spreading that he and this person were the ‘hottest thing in Hollywood.’ I never really got any confirmation of it, but it nearly killed me. Molly chastised me until I was all cried out and I vowed never to do it again.

Yet it seems that I see him everywhere I go. He is still very much a fan girl favorite, and is also one of the few men in Hollywood that has yet to settle down. I sometimes trick myself into thinking it’s because he hangs onto me just as tightly as I hang onto him, but I can’t really believe that completely. What we shared was amazing and life changing, but afterward, I was left with the beautiful creation of our short affair and an incredibly sheltered life. Tom, however, was able to walk right back into his glamorous life, surrounded by gorgeous women and temptation. Why should I fool myself into believing that above all else, he still loves me?

As Molly continues to talk, a cold, stabbing icicle of fear sweeps through me as my thoughts come to an inevitable stopping point. Of all the times in the past I have tried to avoid media attention, especially when it involves my daughter, it is entirely possible that a story has leaked out, he has seen it, and has chosen to ignore it. Honestly, I cannot ever imagine him doing such a thing, since he’s not that type of person, but I can’t help the thought. It stands to reason that speculation must have gone up somewhere that the woman seen in the picture five years ago with Tom Hiddleston is now inexplicably walking around with a four year old, bearing strawberry blonde curls that look so familiar…

It saddens me deep into the very center of my soul to think that there is a possibility that Tom has read a story about me and my daughter but has chosen to look the other way. I cannot assume that this is the case, because I don’t have anything concrete to base it on. When I knew Tom, he was a kind, gentle soul without a cruel, vindictive bone in his body. He had once confessed to me that he always wanted a family. He imagined a house full of children, a woman he loved more than anything to come home to, and a happy forever. I know, right then, that the stabbing fear I’m feeling is my own insecurity at going so long without him. Deep down, in that hurt and shocked part of my soul, I know that Tom would embrace the news of this daughter he doesn’t know about and would have made sure to contact me.

It hits me then, as I continue poking at the wilting leaves of my salad that the other thing I am so sick about is the fact that I haven’t told Tom anything yet. I can’t even begin to imagine what his response is going to be. Not only have I gone four years without telling him that he has a child out there, but I have made damn sure to keep it a secret. He knows about that picture that made it into the media, it was everywhere. Tom Hiddleston, the man who keeps his love life so private, parading around San Diego with an unknown woman on his arm is huge news. People knew my face and name almost immediately. There’s always someone willing to share information for the right price. At first, it wasn’t so bad. Now that I have a daughter to consider, a piece of Tom that I get to keep forever, I didn’t want it getting back out into the mainstream. Moving from California definitely helped that, but I can’t help thinking that it may have just fueled the suspicion of my motives for moving back home to Michigan.

The worst part I consider about anything ever leaking out into the media is the fact that it is probably the coldest, most impersonal way to learn you have a child.

I remember the moment I found out I was pregnant and all of the thoughts that flowed through my mind. I wasn’t angry or upset by the news, quite the opposite, in fact. I was overjoyed to be having a baby, but after my initial joy, the reality of what was going on really started to hit me and I started to get scared. I was about to do this alone. That is something I had no doubt about at all. There was no way I was going to be one of those groupies that tried to comb through the channels to get in touch with a celebrity to make the claim that I was carrying his lovechild. The moment the thought of telling him entered my brain, I could see the headlines instantly. All the rumors and the horrible pictures of us and the lies they would spread. I’m sure Tom would have seen it as an opportunity to come out and say that it was okay and that we accepted it, and could be together, but while I tried to live in that fantasy, I had known it was impossible. Tom was a busy man, and there was no way I was going to fly all over the world with him in my condition, and then with a baby. I would sacrifice a true life for myself for his career. I would also lose my husband for so long at a time that I don’t know how I’d be able to handle it. Married to a man in the military may have prepared me for losing a loved one for months at a time, but I knew, even with the short time Tom and I were together, that with the added stress of pregnancy and my unending well of love for Tom versus the adolescent lust I felt for Zach, I wouldn’t have been able to survive it.

I made the decision for the health and wellbeing of everyone involved. The only person suffering for this decision was me.

Molly starts to wrap up what she’s saying and I know I have to come back to this conversation quickly. It is just then that I realize that sooner or later, my daughter will suffer from all of this secrecy as well and that’s something I just cannot have. I may have to come clean sooner than expected.

“Where is your head right now, missy?” I hear Molly’s voice penetrating my thoughts, finally something directed right at me. She has caught onto the fact that I’m no longer listening.

I come to, blinking my eyes to clear the rampant thoughts clanking around in my emotionally charged brain. “I’m sorry, M, I’m just…” I take a deep breath, ready to start this conversation. Molly will be happy to hear it, and talk me into it quickly, but just admitting that she is right and considering the consequences will be hard to face. “I think it’s going to be time to tell Tom soon.”  
Molly, to her credit, doesn’t immediately stick a finger in my face and scream ‘Ha! Told you so!’ She sets her fork down, sits back in her chair, and calmly arranges her face so that it is expressionless. “What brought this on?” is all she asks.

I tell her everything. I’m tired of avoiding public places, I’m tired of trying to pretend that what we had so many years ago wasn’t an all-consuming event that forever changed me as a person, aside from making me a mother. I tell her that my daughter has gotten to a point where she is about to start asking questions, and I can’t be one of those parents that lies to their child about something this important. I tell Molly I wouldn’t even know where to begin when I tell my daughter about her father. How can a four year old understand a decision made by two adults that their time together has to be brief, and even though she is the amazing result and constant reminder of this truly wonderful moment in my history, she has to be kept secret to protect her father? I tell Molly that I am scared to get in touch with Tom for all the reasons I was scared five years ago to tell him I was pregnant. I don’t want those horrible tabloid rags to run stories about Tom Hiddleston’s secret lovechild, hidden and kept quiet for five years. I don’t want him to become one of those celebrities. He is still well respected in the acting community, a British actor that plays a fun American comic book character as well as delivering moving Shakespearian sonnets onstage at West End in London. He has done nothing scandalous in the media like other incredibly popular celebrities. He has not said anything offensive or dumb in an interview, anything to make other people scoff at him. He has not dated anyone that seems to be beneath him in reputation, therefore calling into question his taste. I ask Molly how I can take any of that away from him.

When I am done speaking, I am in tears, not fighting them as they roll down my cheeks. It has been such a long time coming. Bringing up all of these thoughts and not immediately pushing them away has forced me to face the fact that I am still very, very much in love with Tom Hiddleston. He is my one true life altering soul mate, the man I will never ever be able to recover from, no matter how badly I’d like to. Our time together was so brief that the love I still have for him seems almost impossible, but maybe it also stands to reason that it was so brief that we were forced to confront our intense passions quickly. This makes things a lot more complicated in the aftermath, especially when I have to stare at the face of this man every day in his daughter.

Molly says nothing, as I have expected her to. Instead, she stands up from her seat and comes around to me, enveloping me in an embrace that is much needed and very much appreciated. I sob on her shoulder for a couple more seconds, trying to abate the tears before we gather too many curious glances from onlookers, and pull back, allowing Molly to return to her seat. I wipe my eyes, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for my outburst. I’m someone’s mother. I can’t afford to be falling apart in public.

After another minute or two, I apologize to Molly for my hysterics and she merely laughs at me. “It’s really okay. I can’t believe you haven’t broken down earlier. And I really can’t believe you haven’t figured this all out sooner.”

“I really think I knew all of it, I just didn’t want to put the pieces together until now, for some weird reason,” I confess to her, because it’s the absolute truth. I’ve always known, in the back of my mind, that Tom has to know, and I have to be the one to tell him. It’s never been a thought I wanted to bring to the surface, though. Dwelling on that thought and figuring out what to do with it also means bringing up every memory I have of Tom and our time together, my unrequited love for him, our daughter, and the repercussions of the decisions we made in that one short week we had together. Facing all of that on a minute scale each day is the reason I focus so fully on my daughter and making sure she has everything she needs. If I don’t have my baby to love and cherish, I do not have my sanity.

“Well, sweetie, I think it’s the right decision,” she tells me, giving me an encouraging smile that is also hinting at being a satisfied smirk. This is her way of saying ‘I told you so’ without being so callous as to go ahead and say it out loud. For this, I am appreciative. “And I will be there to help you and support you no matter how you choose to do this. I’ll help you look up his freaking cell phone number if you want me to! I can do it!” she says enthusiastically, a maniacal grin plastered to her face as she gives me her best ‘crazy stalker’ look. I can’t help it and start to giggle. It’s about time this intense conversation took a lighter turn. “Seriously, though, Sam, I know we can do this in a way that is painless and causes the least amount of hurt. And if we can’t find a way to do it quietly from out here, we’ll drive to California and track his ass down!”  
I smirk sadly at her, trying to ignore the slight lift in my heart that comes with the thought of seeing Tom again after all this time. She has no idea that the man actually divides his time between London and Los Angeles, depending on his current project. We could luck out and find him in LA, but the odds are against us. The next Thor movie is in pre-production, which means he’s probably still in the UK, doing press for his latest Shakespearian special on the BBC.

I don’t search for him on the internet anymore, but I do still browse his IMDB page every now and again… just to see what projects he’s got in the works.

“Maybe you’re right,” I concede finally, opting not to tell her that her attempts to find him are probably futile. I’ve done some of the research myself, trying to find a way to contact him in those early days when my daughter was still a newborn. The nights she just wouldn’t sleep and I couldn’t figure out what it was that she needed and desperately, desperately craved a night’s sleep for my sanity were the nights I was the weakest. The nights when I was sure I couldn’t do this alone anymore and I needed someone, anyone, to just come give me a moment to rest. I remember the irrational anger I felt at him for helping to create this baby that he doesn’t have to wake up and feed every three hours. I knew somewhere in that muddled mess of my sleep deprived brain that he had no control over his absence and would probably be there if he had the choice, but those times it didn’t matter. I wanted to find his phone number and call him to scream at him. I just didn’t care.

“Of course I’m right. We can do this, Sam, no need to worry anymore, okay?” she says to me as she pays the bill. I am so lost in my thoughts that I forget to offer to pay, even though she has already said the meal is on her. We have to get going soon to pick up my daughter from school so sitting here, dwelling on the possibilities and implications of this decision we are making is an enormous waste of time.

We stand up to leave the café, and as I am about to ask Molly if she would like to share a ride or drive separately, her phone begins to chime in her pocket. After she picks it up and talks for a moment, it becomes clear to me that my friend is being called away to work. Molly owns and operates a small aromatherapy shop that’s located just outside of town. She can leave from time to time because she is the owner, but more often than not, prefers to be there to oversee things herself. Phone calls asking her to come back in and handle something are so common that I have come to expect them of our time together. This time, however, I had hoped Molly could at least greet my daughter before she was called away again.

As she hangs up the phone, she smiles at me apologetically. I roll my eyes at her, waving her off. “Go ahead. I know they need you more than I do,” I say to her jokingly, making sure to lay on the guilt. “You beg me to come out with you and yet can’t even make it through an hour without leaving again,” I end this tirade with an exaggerated sigh.

“Shut up,” she says, leaning over to give me a hug. “You know I’d blow them off and come with you if it was a minor thing, but it never really is.”

“I understand. Go on, leave me,” I tell her, and after a few more minutes of hemming and hawing, figuring out when we can spend more time together, we part ways and Molly heads to work while I am off to see my little witch in her black hat and adorable sparkly black dress.

I arrive in time to find a great spot to take pictures of this adorable Halloween parade before it begins. The other parents are milling around, chatting excitedly with their own cameras as I begin to notice that most of these families consist of two or more people to each child. I recognize a lot of parents and see other unfamiliar faces. I am suddenly hit with an indescribable sadness deep in my heart as I sit, alone, with my finger poised on the camera. I am ready to keep these memories for myself, but who else will ever get to share this with me?

For a second, I close my eyes and imagine that Tom is here with me, not a celebrity or a movie star, but as a father who just wants to see his daughter dressed up in a parade with her classmates. I imagine him holding one of those handheld recorders, that wide, happy grin that shows all of his teeth as he giggles, seeing our daughter toddling out in her dress, frustrated that we forced her into a pair of black sweatpants because it’s cold outside. I imagine we share that private joke that she is much too independent already and we’ll have to make sure we watch that in ten years when she starts becoming interested in boys. I also imagine that Tom vows she will never date until he is dead, something I know he would say if he were here… if he had any knowledge that his daughter existed at all.

Before I am lost too far in my sad thoughts, the parade begins with the first set of pre-schoolers, trailed by their dressed up, smiling teachers. My thoughts are gone as I beam at these adorable little ones, clad in their costumes. I remember the joy of being that age, when Halloween is still a magical night where you get to be something spectacular, something new and all your own. It is such a beautiful time that you can’t recapture, no matter how hard you try. I love watching these kids and eagerly anticipate my daughter’s class, because I know I will get some waves and perfect shots for our memories.

We may be the only ones enjoying them for years to come.

After the parade is over and I have taken more than my share of pictures, I head over to the classroom with the hoard of other parents going to pick up their children after they were led back. My sweetheart was ecstatic to see me here, taking pictures, and forgot her footing a little in her emphatic waving to me. It was quite adorable and she managed to get a good chuckle out of all the other parents. She’s good at doing that, charming anyone and everyone around her. Then again, her father is the biggest charmer of ‘em all.

I enter the small classroom, standing aside so other parents can collect their children and beat a fast retreat. I try and catch my daughter’s attention so we can get out of here quickly as well. It is Halloween night after all, and we have a few errands to run before I take her out trick or treating. She, however, is very involved in a conversation with one of her teachers about how her mommy bought her a sparkly witch hat that she gets to show off to the whole neighborhood tonight. She declares loudly she may even cast a spell on them if she’s feeling up to it. I giggle at her, my eyes filling with tears at all the thoughts and torments that have been plaguing me today. My daughter really puts it all in perspective.

Finally, I get her attention and she runs over to me, crying, “Mommy! Mommy! Did you see me in the – in the parade? I was waving to you!” Her little strawberry blonde ringlets are bouncing as she bobs up and down, her small voice carrying all the way to the back of the small classroom.

“I did see you, baby, you were just beautiful!” I tell her, giving her a small smile, remembering a time when someone told me I wasn’t ‘just beautiful.’

“Mommy!” she scoffs at me, rolling her eyes. “I’m not a-pposed to be bootiful! I’m a-pposed to be SCARY!” She emphasizes this last word with a scream, two small claws, and what she assumes is a scary face but really just looks like a stroke in progress. I have to try hard not to laugh at her, because then she will ask me what is so funny, and I don’t have it in me right now to explain to a four year old what a stroke is.

“ ‘Sup-posed,’ and yes, baby, you were scary. But you’re still beautiful even when you’re scary,” I tell her, taking her hand in mine as I guide her toward the door. We collect her things at the front of the room, put her coat on, and I respond as she chatters away. She wants to tell me about all her classmates, what they say and do, what they dressed up as and their conversations about said costumes, and what her friends are all doing for Halloween.

“Are we going trick-or-treating right away, Mommy?” she asks.

“No, baby, we have a couple of things we have to do before we can go home and get you ready. You have to eat dinner, too, remember?”

“I forgot!” she declares.

“Of course you did. It was a big day, huh?”

“Big, big, BIG day!”

I smile as we strap into the car and get ready to go. I cherish these few moments I have with my child. The decision I am making to contact her father, though it is probably the best decision I have made in a long time, is going to be hard on my relationship with my daughter. All of a sudden, she is not just mine to keep and love all to myself. I am going to be sharing her with someone else and for me that is a hard concept to take in. For so many years it’s just been the two of us, and now I am purposely throwing someone else into the mix, someone probably willing to take that extra time away from me. I suddenly feel very sick to my stomach, thinking about all the time I won’t have with my daughter.

As my baby rattles on in the back, talking about all of the things she learned in school today (namely, about the history of Halloween), I realize that maybe my decision to contact Tom is a bad one. Am I really ready to give up all the quality time I have with my child to someone that I haven’t seen or heard from in five years?

I miss Tom, and every inch of my being longs to see him again, to hold him and never, ever let him go, but I know that the person who comes first now is not me.

“Mommy, are you listening to me?” demands the voice from the back.

“Yes, Emma,” I answer, “I’m always listening.”


	4. Five Years Ago: Day One

Five Years Ago: Day One

Sammy hadn’t really noticed that two hours had passed since the incident that brought this beautiful British man into her life. After they had migrated to a private table in the back of the bar, the minutes seemed to melt by slowly as they delved deeper into their conversation. The drinking was slowing down, but it was still somewhat steady. Sammy was not used to drinking quite like this, so she was nervous about what her body would do to her unwittingly.

She noticed that Tom seemed to be feeling the same way. He explained to her that he was usually a fan of much less potent imported beers, so he was not quite used to the hard liquor in his Long Islands. However, that only served to make the night more interesting the longer their conversation continued.

For the first half of the night, their conversation was mostly superficial, which was okay with Sammy. Her intention in coming to San Diego definitely didn’t involve finding anyone, especially someone she really clicked with. In fact, she was hoping for the opposite. Many of her friends had mentioned she might need a palate cleanser, but she was sure she could not even handle that much. However, she now found herself entertaining the most unexpected company and actually feeling as though she might be able to open herself up to another person again. It was an unexpected and amazing feeling, and all at once, she wanted to embrace and reject it.

After he broke the ice by bringing up the subject of ‘meant to be’ and deep, soul-to-soul connections, Sammy did find herself thinking that overall, she was willing to open up to him, if still a little reluctant. Tom was sure not to push her into the discussion too much. It was almost as if he could sense that she was still open and raw like a fresh wound. She appreciated it, and for that, wanted so much more to not let him down by keeping to herself. If he wanted to get to know her better, why shouldn’t he?

Before Sammy could actually bring herself to say anything out loud, she had to rethink what she was doing here. It didn’t matter who this guy was and how popular he may or may not be, he was still essentially a stranger. Sitting for two hours, getting to know someone’s likes and dislikes did not qualify as ‘knowing’ someone. This was probably going to be the first and last time they spent a moment together, so why should she bare her soul to him just to have him walk away and forget who she was altogether?

So she opted to say nothing, at least for now. She did not want to give away any of her secrets too early. For a while there was silence, and she found herself hoping that her outburst would continue to go unnoticed. All she wanted was to completely enjoy this night with Tom, if it was to be their last. Even if she felt everything he had mentioned, she wanted to ignore it. It was too damn hard to acknowledge anything special with someone when it was bound to end… again.

Tom took a deep breath, giving her hand a little squeeze. Sammy was surprised to notice that their hands were still intertwined on the table. “It’s probably the liquor talking, but I just really never expected to meet someone quite like you while I was here for this. It’s not that I didn’t think someone like you existed, it’s just that… I meet so many people at these things and at times, I can hardly remember a name or a face. I don’t ever have the chance to sit down and really connect with someone. It’s very refreshing.”

Sammy held her breath for a moment, unsure how to respond to this. She wanted to agree with him wholeheartedly, tell him that she rarely met anyone she felt so comfortable with on a day to day basis, but she still didn’t have the courage to give voice to any of these thoughts. Tom was so much braver than she was, telling her exactly how he was feeling. It may have been the alcohol, yes, but she also could tell that he was eager to know more about her. If for just a few more minutes, she would allow him to voice his thoughts while she struggled to find the nerve to say hers.

“I don’t have much experience with this kind of thing, that’s why I feel like such an idiot,” he confessed them, crinkling his brow and smirking at her with those large, impish eyes. Sammy’s breath left her body all at once, heart thudding at the sight of the irresistible expression he was flashing at her. She wanted to tell him it was okay, that he didn’t sound like an idiot by any means, but she didn’t want this moment to end.

“What do you mean, this kind of thing?” she asked him, finally finding her voice.

“Well, relationships, in general. I mean, I’ve had my fair share, broken a few hearts, but I’ve really never felt quite like this…” he sighed, his smile fading as his face went expressionless. It was as though he were really trying to figure out the last time he had met anyone that made him feel this way.

Sammy reached through the foggy, rum soaked patches of her memory to try and hone in on a time when she felt nearly this taken by anyone. Zach had come close, but if she really was honest with herself, he never had the hold on her that Tom seemed to have right now. Whatever reason it was, Sammy knew it was too special to take advantage of. She had to find the strength to open herself up or she might miss the opportunity to connect, no matter how briefly. So, she turned to Tom, took a breath and smiled, finally relaxed enough to confess, “I don’t think what we’re feeling is typical at all.”

Tom seemed to let out a breath of relief, his face relaxing considerably. He even gave her one of his broad smiles as he sat back, still holding her hand in his. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that. I just don’t want to be alone in this,” he said to her, his eyes grateful, his smile wide. 

Sammy felt her heart skip a beat at the tone in his voice. At the end of the day, Tom was just a lonely guy who craved love like everyone else. His particular career didn’t afford him the time, energy, or the ability to trust and love someone deeply. In a way, it saddened her.

“You’re not alone,” she said finally, staring down at their clasped hands for a moment, really taking everything in.

Things began happening quickly after this final, shared moment of vulnerability. Without really realizing it, Tom and Sammy had scooted so closely together that their legs were now touching, and Sammy only really became aware of it when the waitress came to the table and Tom turned to order another drink. Sammy saw the pulse of his heartbeat straining against the soft, sweet smelling skin of his neck, and her heart started pounding so ferociously she was sure he could hear it. All at once, her entire body flushed and every part of her that was in some kind of contact, directly or indirectly, felt as though it were on fire. Her body had not responded to a man like this in so many years. It really took some getting used to.

It was evident to Sammy that it wasn’t just their bodies that were responding to this newfound level of intimacy. The conversation had also changed drastically. No longer were they wasting their time on the typical ‘getting to know you’ questions. They were delving straight into the thick of it. Tom started things off by telling her all about his family life, and how much he really missed England, but didn’t want to complain too much, as he was so fortunate to have the career he did.

“I definitely don’t want to sound too ungrateful for what I’ve been given,” he assured her, “but there are times when I do wonder what it would have been like if I was still home, with my family.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I have two sisters, one older and one younger. I miss them terribly, we get on quite well,” he told her, a wistful smile on his face.

“Are you close with them?”

“Absolutely,” he told her, giving her a smile. “I love my sisters dearly, and I have a different, but equally amazing relationship with both of them. Sarah, my older sister, is much more down to earth and I can understand her on that level, but Emma, my little sister… She understands a little bit about the business.”

“Oh, is your sister an actress, too?”

Tom shrugged a little. “She is, I don’t want to diminish her work or anything like that, but she’s really only dabbled. She doesn’t even really consider herself a real part of it. Emma’s heart is elsewhere.”

Sammy nodded, “I can understand and respect that,” she said sincerely. “And I’ve always loved that name. Emma. It’s just so innocent and sweet.”

“I’d have to agree,” he said, giving her that wide grin again, which made it impossible for her to suppress a smile of her own. He was so genuine.

There was another small lull in which Sammy felt like she could hear her blood rushing through her body. The proximity of their bodies was just ridiculous at this point. The alcohol was also making her feel a lot more confident and uninhibited, and she had to keep telling herself not to cross the line. After all, she still shouldn’t be quite comfortable enough to get too affectionate. That and she didn’t really want to scare him off.

She noticed, though, that he seemed to be about as hesitant as she was when it came to anything physical. They had scooted close enough to be pressed up against each other, sure, but that was subtle and somewhat unintentional. Anything past that, past the deliberate hand holding earlier, was quite a different story. Since Sammy was now seeing past his celebrity persona and taking him in as just another man she had a connection with, she was really seeing all of the small hints that told her how he was feeling as well. She saw him pause every time he moved as though he were going to advance on her. She saw him decide against getting any closer. She even watched him take deep breaths or gulp nervously whenever she moved and brushed up against him the wrong way. Sammy was very aware that their emotional attraction also broached an undeniable physical attraction as well.

She tried to be as respectful as she could. She wasn’t willing to allow herself the thought of bedding a man she had just met, so to tease him in any way without the promise of a payoff was just plain rude.

“I’m sorry you don’t get to see your family much,” she said to him, trying not to sound as sad as she felt for him.

“It’s quite all right,” he said, reassuring her as his smile faded slightly. “I see them a great deal, for what I do, I’m quite fortunate, really.”

“Well, yeah, but you don’t see them as much as you’d like to,” she offered, wanting to reach over and rub his arm or something, show him that she understood.

“True,” he stared into space for a second more before turning back to her. “What about you? Don’t you get a chance to get back to Michigan to visit your family?”

Sammy’s own smile faltered at the mention of her family, the family that was no longer there to support her. It hit her so hard right then that it took her a minute to find her voice. Tom noticed this long pause, his brow furrowed as he gazed at her, concerned. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

Sammy finally happened upon the strength to speak without letting the emotion choke her too desperately. “No, no, it’s just that… I recently lost my parents and I have no siblings…”

“Oh my god,” he said, and she watched him decide whether or not to reach out and comfort her. Sammy felt the light touch of his hand on her arm, and she sucked in a small breath as the warmth flooded her, momentarily making her forget the deep sadness brought on by the memory of losing her parents. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize, or I wouldn’t have sat here complaining about not seeing my family enough. I feel awful.”

“You didn’t know, really, it’s all right,” she told him. “I have my best friend, so that’s something.”

“No other family?” he asked quietly after taking a moment to process what she was telling him. “No cousins to speak of? No aunts, uncles, or… significant others?”

She closed her eyes again, reeling from the pain of his question. Tom was hitting all the finer points of her most recent terrible years, and she knew that he wasn’t doing it on purpose. This was the moment she had been dreading since their conversation began a few hours before. He had given her the perfect opportunity to confess to her divorce, and if she wanted to take it, she could. If not, it was just as easy to say ‘no,’ and continue with the night, free from having to explain and go into the details of the disintegration of her marriage. At first, she hadn’t wanted to get deeply involved with someone she was probably only going to spend one night with, but she figured that bridge had already been broached after all the talk of soul mates.  
If she was going to do it, she might as well go all in.

“Did I say something wrong again?” he asked. She peered up at him finally, seeing the fear and genuine concern he displayed made her decision to tell him that much easier. He was just too caring to keep in the dark. She would have felt the guilt of her deception, even though she didn’t really owe this guy an explanation at all.

“Honestly, there was someone up until recently,” Sammy breathed, her voice quiet. Tom had to lean in a little to hear her, and once again, his proximity sent her senses into a whirl. “Until about six months ago… I was married.”

Tom’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He leaned back as he took in the information. It seemed that he was finally caught speechless, which at the rate they were talking all night seemed almost impossible. Sammy realized how terrible her bombshell must have been to render Tom verbally impotent.

“I… I just don’t know what to say, I’m so sorry,” he said, staring hard at the table as he spoke, and then glancing up at her, real caring and concern swimming in his beautiful blue green eyes. “I can most definitely understand why you’re here alone now. You must need a vacation from what you have going on right now. I am so floored by your strength.”

Sammy expected all of the apologies and the pity, but the compliment was what threw her. She looked up into his eyes, trying to talk back the tears but thanks to the booze, she was unsuccessful. They misted her eyes over and Tom’s face became blurry in front of her. She desperately wished she could take them back, but in the instant she had the thought, Tom became brave and raised his hand up to delicately cup her cheek, his thumb lightly stroking the soft skin as he tried, in vain, to comfort her.

“Please, please don’t cry,” he whispered, scooting ever closer to her. He was so close now that Sammy could feel his breath against her face and he completely filled her senses in a way he hadn’t all night. Now she could see him clearly, despite the tears covering her eyes, and she knew that he was gazing into her, the moment in time pausing in the air around her. She knew nothing else but this man sitting here, his hand on her cheek, his other hand reaching out for her outstretched fingers. She grasped him like he was the last anchor she had in the ripping waves of her emotions, and before she could take a breath, his lips were on hers.

The tears were forgotten as they slipped down her cheeks. The feel of his warm, agile lips on hers was enough to make her forget that anything else in the world existed. For this beautiful moment, Sammy’s mind was blank except for Tom, and she knew that even with the continued, growing intensity of this shared lip lock that she was in deep, deep trouble. The last time she had even felt a fraction of this passion she’d ended up heartbroken and alone. This was going to end badly, even if she didn’t want to really believe it.

But then again, she knew what she was getting with Tom. He wasn’t going to give up his career to settle down with her, and she couldn’t throw away everything she was working toward just to follow him around, so it’s not like she had any illusions about a relationship they couldn’t share. They both had to know that this couldn’t last forever.

And even though she knew this rationally, there was so much heart and true affection in this kiss that Sammy had to stop and really consider the implications of involving herself with this man at all. Her feelings for him were too much already. It was amazing.

Tom opened his mouth slightly, inviting her in for a deeper connection, and her other hand found the lapel of his tailored suit jacket, gripping it tightly in her fingers as the kiss radiated throughout her entire body. She was definitely feeling the effects of going almost a year without being physically intimate with a man. This man was a special case, as well. He was undeniably and unquestionably attractive, but more than that, he was sweet, caring, interesting, intelligent, and completely sincere. She’d never met another person like this.

The kiss ended after another few seconds, and not a moment too soon. Any longer and Sammy felt as though she would start peeling that coat right off of his back. When she got a good look at Tom after opening her eyes, she could tell he was feeling the same way.

“I hope that wasn’t too forward,” he whispered, his fingers still gently caressing her cheek. His eyes raked her in, as if they couldn’t get enough of the vision of her.

“No, no, it was perfect,” she said back to him. Sammy resisted the urge to rest her forehead against his. “You are perfect.”

Tom laughed at her, now tucking the loose hair behind her ears and letting his fingers gently brush her jawline. Chills ran up her spine. “I am not used to drinking like this, it’s just ridiculous,” he commented. “I’m not usually that brazen.” She laughed with him, as this was something she understood as well.

“I feel like I’m at the breaking point,” Sammy confessed to him, unable to stop staring at his perfect pink lips, wondering what they would taste like a second time. “One more drink and I think you’ll have a hard time controlling me.”

The moment Sammy was finished speaking, a new, fiery intensity burned in Tom’s sea blue eyes, a look Sammy knew all too well. It was the smoldering blaze of pure, unadulterated lust.

“Shall we get you another drink, then?”


	5. Present Day

Present Day

I am finally at home and Emma is content to simply run around in her witch costume, still telling me stories about school and Halloween and what all her classmates were wearing. She has a million ideas about what to go as next year, and I quickly remind her she is not going to remember what she wants to be next year. Typical Emma fashion, she rolls her eyes at me and tells me that I’m wrong. I take a deep breath as she walks away, dreading the day she becomes a teenager if she has already developed the mindset that I am wrong about everything.

I feel a pain in my chest as I think about the future. What am I staring down at this point? Will I ever actually tell Tom he has a daughter? If I do, will he be here, with us, or will he still be traveling frequently and only stop in for a rare visit? What kind of strained relationship will I have with my daughter if I wait too long to tell her who her father really is and the circumstances that led to her conception?

It’s all too much to bear, so instead of focusing on it too heavily, I turn and head into the kitchen to get myself another cup of coffee. It is my one true vice, as I don’t drink anything alcoholic when my daughter is around. I have all but given that luxury up. It went out the window the moment the plus sign showed up on the pregnancy test.

I hear Emma in the living room. She has pulled out her arts and crafts bucket and is no doubt busy scribbling out drawings, wearing down the millionth box of crayons I have purchased for her. I don’t mind so much. I’d rather she express her creativity than be sedentary all day just planted in front of the TV. It has been a struggle not to give in to the pull of setting her in front of a cartoon to placate her so I can get some work done, but for the most part, I am happy for my resistance. She is going to grow up with an appreciation for things that television cannot provide her.

There’s also the possibility that she could stumble onto something with her father. I am not entirely scared of that happening, because surely she will not just instinctively know who he is. I am, however, scared of what will happen to me when I hear his voice again or see his smiling image on the screen. Unfortunately, The Avengers is a Disney franchise, so I know at some point, he will pop up on one of my daughter’s channels, probably being interviewed, which would be even worse. At least in a movie he is playing someone I don’t know. In an interview he is my Tom, even if he is a veiled version of himself that he presents to the camera. Deep down, I know it’s still my Tom, the man I fell so desperately in love with so long ago and won’t ever forget.

I force the thoughts out of my head as I pour my coffee, prepare it with sugar and cream, and make my way back into the living room to be with my daughter. She will spend probably fifteen minutes with her arts and crafts before she is in her bedroom, playing with her Barbies or Little Tike’s kitchenette set, complete with small pieces of plastic food. I bought her a kit one time with a bunch of different foods in it, and I swear I trip over more of them than were in the kit. I don’t know how it’s physically possible…

I decide to sit down and enjoy this time with her instead of jumping right back into writing. I have all night to do that when she is winding down after dinner. These moments are precious to me, since Emma is all I have (other than Molly, of course). If I am to bring a second parent into this equation, I don’t have many more moments with my daughter where I am the only one she needs. For the most part, she has not noticed that her life is any different without a daddy, but I am heartbreakingly aware of the fact that she has started to really catch on to the typical family model. I know they teach those kinds of basics in preschool, but she also sees all the mothers and fathers that show up for her classmates, and while she hasn’t asked me yet, I feel the question brewing in her tiny brain. Once she has the language skills to formulate the question, she’ll ask it.

I want to tell her the truth, and I want to give her a second parent. She deserves it, after all. I don’t want my daughter to grow up wanting for anything, even if that means I have to share her with someone else. It’s for her, not for me, that I am considering doing this. The last thing I need is her hating me for the rest of my life because I was selfish and kept something this important from her.

For now, though, I am content to keep our life the way it is, awaiting the day when things inevitably have to change.

I sit back on the couch and take another sip of my hot coffee, enjoying the flavor of my home brew and agreeing with my daughter when she wants my opinions on her drawings. She is like any other four year old, full of questions and non-stop energy, wanting to do and learn and see and never, ever stop. I am thankful for caffeine on the days when she is really ramped up, like today. There’s nothing that can stop an imaginative preschooler on Halloween, when they get to dress up and be something else. That’s exciting enough for an adult!

I smile at Emma, noting that her strawberry blonde curls could use another combing when my phone starts to go off. The only person I can imagine it being at this moment in time is Molly, so I choose to ignore it. She knows I have my daughter and is usually not intrusive when I can’t get to her call. I think that also has to do with the fact that for the most part, I at least text her back to ask her what’s up.

This time, though, she is a little more insistent. My phone goes off again, and I debate picking it up. It must be something a little more urgent than asking me how the Halloween parade went, but again, it can’t possibly be that pressing. After it goes to voicemail once again, I feel a slight guilt rising up in my stomach. What if she’s in the hospital or something tragic and I didn’t pick up the phone?

My fears are confirmed when my phone lights up for the third time. This time, I lean over and answer it on the first ring. “What’s going on?” I bark, trying not to sound as anxious as I suddenly feel. Obviously she is calling and not pinned under a vehicle or something.

“Thank god, I really thought you weren’t going to pick the phone up,” she exhales on the other end. “I really can’t text this to you.”

I frown, the anxiety I was feeling moments before instantly replaced by annoyance. “Dammit, I thought you were trapped under a shelf of lotions and ointments! Why are you blowing up my phone if it’s not an emergency?”

“But, Sam, it is an emergency,” she pauses, “of sorts.”

“Of sorts? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, shooting my confused daughter a smile, because she is looking up at me quizzically after having cussed at my phone twice.

“Okay, so before I tell you what I have to tell you, I have to tell you something else. Something you’re not going to be very happy about,” Molly tells me, sounding very rushed and clipped.

I am running out of patience with Molly, but I try not to let her know. “What is it?”

She sighs. I have clearly not veiled my annoyance quite well enough. “All right, you know how I told you four years ago to quit looking… well, you-know-who up on the internet because it just makes you upset and with Emma, you really didn’t need the added stress?”

My heart starts to pick up in rhythm. I feel panic beginning. What has she done? “Yes…” I say with trepidation.

“Well, because I told you not to do it, I’ve been kind of keeping up with it on my own.”

I don’t know what to think of this. I have so many questions that I want to ask her, so many things about his life in the past four years that I really want to know about, but I know it is foolish to ask her. After all, I don’t think she would actually tell me everything. Obviously something was important enough that it warranted a phone call.

Out of nowhere, my entire body freezes and I feel my blood turn to ice. My tongue suddenly feels leaden and I can’t move it to ask the question I so desperately do not want to know the answer to… I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that she is calling to tell me he’s married, and that I have lost my window.

Before I can choke past the tears to ask, she continues without my input. “I know, I know, you’re probably furious with me and want to call me a hypocrite, but I think it’s okay that I’ve been doing it. I mean, someone has to, just in case he gets engaged or something and you decide that’s the kick in the pants you need to finally tell him about Emma.”

I can suddenly feel my fingers again and my mouth seems to remember how to articulate words. “He’s… he’s not married?”

“What? No, of course not. If he was married, I would be there in person,” Molly explains to me. Past the flood of relief that engulfs my body, I am amused at Molly’s list of priorities for news. Whatever she has to tell me is too important for a text, but doesn’t warrant an in person visit. Okay. It can’t be that bad, can it?

“So what is it?” I ask her, the panic gone and the irritation at my interrupted day slowly creeping back in.

“All right, I’m sending you a link in your email and you need to watch it.”

“Is it an interview or something with Tom?”

“Yeah.”

“Molly, you know I can’t watch that,” I tell her, feeling defeated. I want her to just tell me what’s going on. Not only do I not want to see him again, but I certainly don’t want to hear the bad news from his beautiful mouth.

“You don’t have a choice,” she says cryptically. I hear her fingers typing on her laptop.

“Come on, Moll, why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?” I whine, knowing that I probably now sound annoying.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but you really have to see it yourself. I want you to tell me when you get the email, watch it, and then call me back, okay?”

I want to scream at my best friend. She has no idea what it’s like to meet the love of your life and then consequently lose them and have a constant reminder of what could have been. She doesn’t know that every single time I see even a picture of him, I instantly flash back to that first night we were together, the moments in between when we held each other and dreamt of a future we couldn’t have, and that final heart wrenching goodbye.

“All right, all right,” Molly relents. She has not taken my silence as acquiescence to her terms. “I’ll give you a little hint. It is an interview with Tom, and it is pretty recent, like it was posted on YouTube about three days ago and actually done about five days ago.”

Five days? My heart starts to pound insanely in my chest, making me feel slightly faint. If I actually agree to watch this video, I will be seeing Tom for the first time in four years, as he is now. I’ll be able to actually picture him as he is now in my head, versus how he was five years ago. I don’t know if I want to sully that perfect portrait.

“Molly, I don’t know if I can stand to hear him say something horrible. I’d rather you do that,” I finally confess to her. That and I don’t want my memory of him to change… at all. But I don’t tell Molly that.

“Oh, that’s the other thing. It’s not bad. He’s not engaged, he’s not married, he’s not gay, or has a love child or anything like that,” she says. Now the tone of her voice is starting to sound positively giddy. Giddy?

“What…?” At this point, I am completely confused. I have absolutely zero idea of what this could be.

“Will you just watch it and call me back please?”

I take a deep breath and decide to just agree to get her off the phone. We’ll see what I decide after that. “All right, I’ll watch it.”  
Molly huffs. “Are you really going to watch it?”

I roll my eyes. Damn her, she knows me too well. “I will now.”

“Good, because I’ll know if you’ve watched it or not. You won’t hesitate for one second in calling me back and I know exactly how long the video is.”

I want to argue the point with her more, but at this point, Emma is asking me for some chocolate milk. I tell her to wait a second until I get off the phone, and after agreeing to actually watch the video after I take care of my daughter, I hang up and lead my daughter into the kitchen.

Once she is taken care of and I have listened to her endless series of descriptions of her drawings, I take her into her bedroom so she can play with something else. I am so wrapped up in the video that is just waiting for me on my email that I forget to make her clean up her toys. I feel like all kinds of bad Mom today.

I try to calm my thundering heart as I walk slowly and carefully to my computer, feeling as though I am going to pass out from the sheer anxiety of the moment. I don’t want to sit down and face Tom again, but I am so excited to do it that I can’t see straight.

I make it to the computer, and with shaking fingers, pull up my email and see Molly’s message to me. After opening it up and reading the short message she has included with the blue hyperlink (“Watch immediately!! You have to see this!!”), I give myself a moment before I click and disrupt the picture I have of Tom.

Before Emma can come out and break my concentration (which she is bound to do shortly), I decide to get it over with, click on the link, and wait for the video to load onto my computer. I watch the page load, and sit, staring at the title of the video before I press play. It only says ‘Tom Hiddleston May 6th Interview’ at the top. I sigh dramatically. My one shot at getting one little hint about this damn video is gone, and now all that is left is just to click play.

So, after one more minute where I calm myself down by breathing slowly in and out, I press play.

I am not even given a second of respite when the video starts up. From the first second on, there is Tom, perched on a chair with his hands folded in his lap, sitting with his legs opened, like I saw him do a thousand times. He looks amazing, and I feel the overwhelming longing and sadness taking over me. I hurriedly wipe the tears away so that they don’t cloud my vision of him one iota. He is the same Tom, still with joy in his eyes, tamed reddish blond curls framing his face, expressive ocean blue eyes sparkling. He does look a bit older than I remember, a few more laugh lines at his eyes, but otherwise, unchanged. I almost can’t bear the sight of him, but I know I must struggle through this.

There is a movie poster behind him, a new project he is working on him that actually looks like a movie I would enjoy, but one I will probably never see. The camera turns to the interviewer for a second, a young man with glasses that begins by asking the most basic questions, how it was working with so-and-so, what was the director like, blah, blah, blah. Questions I’ve heard answered a million times by any random celebrity in the world. He always handles himself like the consummate professional he is. He puts a little of himself out there, always remains neutral if the questions get too racy, and never says anything bad about the project. However, I am not prepared for the sound of his voice when he answers these questions, and the rise and fall of his deep, lilting voice and English accent are enough to make the tears start again. I remember the words he spoke to me when we were intimately embracing, the jokes he told when we were out together, the soft, sweet things he would confess when we were alone and he wanted me to know how he felt about me before we parted ways forever.

How did I ever think I could give this man up?

About two minutes in and there doesn’t seem to be anything special to this video. I have no idea what Molly was talking about and am about to call her in a huff when the interviewer quickly changes tack. Apparently, the movie Tom has starred in most recently is a romance movie, and a pretty intense one at that. The interviewer asks a seemingly innocent question that seems pretty standard when it comes to a movie like this, but it strikes the chords so deep in my heart that I forget how to breathe.

“So how was it, then, to play a romantic lead? I mean, you’ve usually had the historic films that you’ve been in and your work in The Avengers franchise, so you haven’t had much experience in a romantic story. Was it hard for you to find the inspiration to portray a man so deeply in love when you haven’t had that feeling before?”

It has been so long since our time together, and I always feel as though I am remembering it wrong. I have been assuming for five years that I was the only one completely head over heels in love. I have thought for years that Tom was just going through the motions so that he could have a little fun in San Diego. I catch myself at times, knowing that what we shared must have been real, but I haven’t had the validation that it was.

Until right now, when I see even for the briefest of moments, the haunted look in Tom’s eyes as his gaze meets the camera lens. I gasp out loud, the tears falling down my face as I cover my mouth with my shaking hand, my heart fluttering so bad now that I am sure I am having a heart attack. That gaze, that deep, soulful look is the one I so clearly remember from the moment we kissed in the bar until the day we had to say goodbye… That is my look.

He is giving it to me right now.

Before I can really register what has happened, he turns back to the interviewer and tries to fumble back into his interview persona, cracking a smile and stumbling back into his well-rehearsed responses. “Honestly…” he begins, and that’s when I feel my stomach flip flop one more time. He should be saying something like ‘It’s not hard to find the inspiration when you’re working with such great directors, coworkers, etc.’ but he has not gotten that far. In fact, his gaze has slipped down to the floor, his brow furrowed as he clearly contemplates what to say. I wait, on bated breath, as the seconds tick by and he finally lifts his head, an intense look on his face. A look I remember so well.

“Honestly, I have felt it before,” he says, and my jaw drops again. I can’t believe he’s confessing to any of what we shared… We never really talked about discussing it in public, but it seemed to be an unspoken agreement after those pictures were taken that we weren’t going to make a big deal out of it. I pause my thoughts as he continues his. “It was a long time ago, and I was able to bring those feelings back up to accurately portray my role as Jonathon.”

The interviewer isn’t going to let this slip go unnoticed. “So you’ve been in love before?”

Tom tries to put a mask on, blocking out his most private, intimate thoughts. It’s as if he’s just now remembered that he’s on camera. “Yes, as I said, it was a long time ago, but it was intense and real and easy to draw the inspiration from, of course.”

“And it’s over?”

Tom struggles. He has had so much more practice than me in hiding what he’s really feeling so that the whole world can’t see, so I don’t begrudge him the deadened smile he gives the interviewer. He has to. Who knows how many people are going to watch this? “Yes, yes, it’s over now.”

“So did that make playing this role even harder, trying to get past all of those intense, romantic feelings and memories to give this character what it truly deserved?”

He gives the camera that look just one more time, the look I know he is trying to transmit across thousands of miles, a camera lens, and a computer screen right to me. He wants me to know he has not forgotten me, and that he still loves me just as intensely as I love him. If only there were a way…

Instead of copping to it, Tom smiles his wide grin, his eyes now focused back on the floor as he says, “Clearly you’ve never been in love, Drew.” He ends this with a laugh.

The interviewer laughs with him. “Not like the movie, I can’t say that I have. Well, Tom, what is the next project you are going to be working on?”

I know I should turn the video off now. There’s only about thirty seconds left and I assume that I have seen the part I am supposed to see. I should quit torturing myself with the image of this man that I cannot ever have again. I need to call Molly back and cry to her, beg her to come over and be with me… I have to do something…

“Well, my next project is actually on location in Detroit,” he practically whispers.

My body sags as I hear him confess this next detail and I know now why Molly so desperately wanted me to watch this video. If not for the declaration of love, then for this one last little detail. My brain is far past the point of knowing how to process any more of this and my heart certainly can’t take it anymore.

“Detroit? That sounds promising. Can you give us any details about the project?”

“Not just yet, unfortunately,” he says, and I see him gulp slightly and glance at the camera one more time, quickly, before he says, “but I can say that I am greatly looking forward to visiting the Motor City to start.”

The blood rushes into my ears and I don’t hear the last five seconds of the video, which I assume is just thank yous back and forth. I want to call Molly immediately, but I also want to watch the video about twenty more times so that I can see that look one more time as he confesses that he was, maybe still is, in love with me, and that he’s going to be here in a matter of days.

I have to get past it though, and I manage to click back into my main inbox so I make sure to save this email into a separate folder for private viewing later. I notice a familiar name on the title of one of my other unread emails, but before I can open it, my phone rings.

“Molly?”

“You watched it?”

There is no disguising the emotion in my voice, and before I can say another word, I break down into tears. My daughter comes running out when she hears me sobbing. She is asking me what is wrong, but I cannot speak. Instead, I gather her into my arms and let her hug and comfort me. I know she’s going to want to wriggle out of my grasp in a moment and attempt to make me hot cocoa to make me feel better like I do for her, but I enjoy the few seconds she has her arms wrapped around my neck. Molly waits a minute or so to talk until I calm down, and when I finally do, I am ready to speak.

“I thought for so long that I imagined the whole thing, Moll,” I tell her. “I just thought I was the only one invested…”

“I know you did. And that’s why you needed to see all of it,” she says. “Did you watch until the end?”

“Of course I did,” I say. “You don’t happen to know when he’s going to be flying into Detroit, do you?”

“No, not yet,” she says, and I can hear her clacking away at her computer again. “I’ve been looking all over the place, trying to find any information I can, but the most reliable source I have is his Twitter, and he hasn’t said anything yet.”

“Do you think he will?” I ask her, trying not to sound too desperate as I rearrange Emma on my lap.

“I know he will,” she says with certainty. “He talks about where he’s going a lot, takes pictures, thanks the people of the city, state, or country for their hospitality. You know, all the basic celebrity ass-kissing stuff.”

I roll my eyes. “I can’t believe you’ve been following him on Twitter, Miss ‘I’ll never buy into that crap,’” I say, trying to lift my spirits a little. I want him to be here so bad that I can feel the yearning deep in my stomach, but at the same time I’m extraordinarily terrified.

“Well, it’s for you, so it’s different. I’m not actually participating in the ‘tweets,’” she says with some disgust. I chuckle. “I promise I will keep you up to date, though. More than likely, it’ll be soon, since that video was about a week ago and he said he was off to Detroit next.”

“That could mean months from now, though,” I tell her, not wanting to get my hopes too high.

“I highly doubt it. He wouldn’t have said he ‘can’t wait to see the Motor City’ if it was going to be months before he came out. He would have probably waited until closer to his arrival, just in case you were watching.”

“That’s a fair point,” I concede, not wanting to believe it for a second. It is too much to hope for, it truly is.

There is some commotion in the background on Molly’s end and she comes back to the phone. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I have to go, I have customers. Are you going to be okay? Do you need to me to come over?”

“No, I’ll be all right tonight,” I say, really wanting the night alone to watch and rewatch this video without scrutiny.  
I know Molly knows what I am going to do, but she is decent enough not to say anything. “Alright. Feel free to call me any time. You know I’ll answer for you.”

“I’ll do that, Moll, thanks… again.”

“No problem. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I set my phone down and stare at the computer screen stupidly for a moment, trying to register everything that has just happened to me. Tom still loves me, he is still struggling with our parting just as much as I am, and he is going to be here in a short amount of time. What am I going to do? Should I go seek him out? Ask him to come by? Tell him there’s something important that I’ve been keeping from him for years?

I suddenly realize that I am not prepared for all of this to happen so quickly. I feel the panic rising up in my throat again and I try my hardest to quell it by turning my focus on my daughter, who has since abandoned my lap and wandered back onto the floor after assuring herself that I am okay. I am about to get off of the couch and join her on the floor when I glance back up at my inbox and allow the email I saw before to register a little more clearly.

My eyebrows shoot up into my brow as I realize who the email is from, and as I click the message to read, my jaw drops as well. Everything flows through my brain quickly and I realize that this long day has just gotten longer.


	6. Five Years Ago: Day Two

Day Two

The bright California sunshine peered its way into the slightly opened curtain looking into Sammy’s hotel room. Any other morning, it would be more than welcome in her darkened room, but today, there was no way she had the tolerance for such an offending light. She tried, in vain, to open her eyes but couldn’t seem to manage past the blinding pain of her migraine and the way her stomach flip flopped at the thought of even moving out of bed. Even in the fog of her barely-there consciousness, she was aware that the pain and discomfort she was feeling was a direct result of bad decisions and far, far too much alcohol.

As Sammy finally opened her eyes, the reality of what she had done last night started to roll into her mind, slowly but surely. It came back in bits and pieces, and her stomach started to hurt even more when she remembered all of the things that happened through the alcohol induced haze.

That last drink had really put her over the edge. She knew herself well enough to know that there was a line, and for sure, she had crossed it with that final mojito. Sammy was ashamed of herself for not respecting her limit, but it didn’t seem to matter. She recalled the intimate details that had led up to her eventual drunken stupor and what occurred after that final mojito.

She shut her eyes to rid herself of the cursed morning light and the images of the night before started playing themselves out on her closed eyelids. The British mystery man who had stepped up to defend her honor the night before, the intense conversation and connection that had followed, the hand holding, the touching, the depth to their interaction, the kiss… she recalled that final drink, and how she had placed it so seductively between her lips, acting like a woman possessed. She was usually not that forward, especially with someone who was only three hours before a complete stranger.

Sammy recalled feeling the most intense passions swarming through her body as she imbibed her final drink. Tom was putty in her hands, the liquid look in his ocean blue eyes proof that she was doing her job well. He asked for their tab sloppily, as the alcohol had clearly affected him just as heavily as it had her. As they waited impatiently to be cut loose from the bar, Sammy noticed that Tom just couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of her. He was pushing himself closer to her, and she could feel every single inch of his excitement, waiting to get her out of there and to one of their rooms, presumably.

It didn’t take long for Tom to turn things around on her, teasing and seducing just as much. Pressed up against her, he was taking advantage of her most vulnerable, sensitive areas. His long, graceful fingers pushed her frosted blonde tresses across her neck, causing a chill to spread up her back and all the way down to her toes as he pressed his beautiful lips against the soft, waiting skin underneath. She felt her entire body responding to each and every touch as he stroked one finger down the length of her arm, picking up her hand and kissing her wrist playfully.

Sammy felt herself melting into her chair. The waitress was taking far too long with their bill, and she really didn’t think she was going to make it out of here with all of her clothes intact.

“Where else do you want me to kiss you?” he whispered into her ear, the mere action causing her legs to turn to Jell-O. How could he even expect her to find the words to speak right now? She barely remembered how to walk at this point.

“I think you could kiss me anywhere right now and it would feel amazing,” she confessed to him, peering at him coyly over her shoulder.

His large, toothy grin spread across his face, crinkling his swimming eyes as he merely responded by running his hand down her shoulder. “Are you trying to drive me crazy right now?”

“Maybe,” she replied as she saw the waitress finally coming over with their check. “But I think you’re doing a good job of that as well.”

Once the check was on the table, Sammy started to reach for it and Tom simply pushed her hand away. “Allow me to pay for tonight.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” she insisted. “I drank quite a few of these, and they’re awfully expensive.”

He rolled his eyes at her, pulling his leather wallet out of his back pocket and sorting through it. “I’m a gentleman. I don’t have to, but I choose to.” He placed a handful of cash down too quickly for her to notice and the next thing she knew he was tugging on her hand, ready to go.

Sammy wasn’t going to deny him anything right now. Beneath the fog of the rum soaked into her brain, she was aware that she may have been getting in too deep with someone new, only a short time after her divorce was final. She had that small sliver of judgment left, aware that maybe this was a mistake, but at the same time, Sammy knew if she over thought this too much she would end up backing away from something that could be amazing, even if it was only one night.

The scenes continued playing themselves out for Sammy as she lay in the hotel room the next morning. She roughly recalled crossing through the lobby with Tom, where they were stopped a couple of times to sign autographs and take a couple of pictures. Tom tried his hardest to maintain, but Sammy knew that it was obvious he had had a few to drink that night. The girls he bumped into didn’t seem to mind, though, and he walked away, a wide grin on his face as he remembered their eventual destination.

“Which way to the lift?” he asked as they continued toward the end of the lobby.

“I think it’s there,” Sammy replied, pointing ahead.

“And to which floor are we ascending?” he said, his arm tightly wound around her waist. He was hugging her tightly to him, almost as if she were going to disappear at any second.

“Well, that depends. Are we going to your room, or my room?” she asked, leaning her head against him. She was beginning to find his scent utterly intoxicating. It wasn’t going to be long before she threw herself at him.

Tom took only a second to contemplate this. “Would you mind it terribly if we went to your room? Too many people know where my room is, and I really don’t want to be interrupted while I’m with you.”

Sammy’s heart swelled at this confession. He wanted their time together to be unfettered by the complications of his career. That was incredibly romantic. “That’s perfect.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped on. “What floor, love?”

“It’ll be six,” she said, noticing that the elevator was empty. As soon as the doors were shut, they took full advantage of this. They threw themselves together so forcefully that Tom fell against the wall as he wrapped his arms around her, hands roaming freely. Sammy wasted no time twisting her fingers into his curly hair, her nails coming out with each wave of intense pleasure that washed through her as the kiss deepened in intensity. Her mind was hazy with alcohol fueled, much deprived hormones, and she didn’t allow herself to think of anything else.

They stumbled off the elevator, laughing loudly but trying to be quiet as they stumbled down the hall together toward her room, pausing occasionally to delve into each other, kissing and groping, until they finally made it to Sammy’s room. She tried to quickly find the room key as Tom teased her, kissing her neck and rubbing her arms, letting his fingers roam down toward her waist, rubbing and gripping, waiting for the moment when they would finally be in the room, together.

At last, the door opened, and everything in Sammy’s memory blurred. It had happened so quickly that it was hard to discern the little details. All Sammy knew for sure was that as soon as the door was closed, Tom had grabbed her, spun her around, and completely enveloped her. They stripped themselves down on their way to the bed, anxiously awaiting the moment they would share this physical part of themselves. Tom was sensuous, sweet, caring, and an undeniable animal from the moment he placed his lips on her, to the moment she climaxed under his mere fingers, to the exact point of penetration when she cried out in the agonizing bliss that was this moment.

Now, she was awake, living in the aftermath of the rash decision that alcohol had brought her to. Last night, he had made sure to insist over and over that he was just Tom, not a celebrity, not a movie star, and certainly not a fan girl heartthrob. He didn’t want her to be intimidated. But as Sammy lay in the bed, trying to avoid staring directly into the blinding sunlight spewing in from the window, she was acutely aware of the fact that last night, she had bedded a celebrity.

All at once, she felt sick to her stomach. She was now just another notch in his belt, a groupie that had been plied with hard liquor and threw herself at a desirable man just to be one of the many women he slept with when he travelled. She didn’t want to be a notch. She wanted to be better than that, and had been hoping that the first man she was with after Zach wasn’t just a meaningless rebound.

The nausea, however, began to subside when Sammy remembered what Tom really meant to her, and what he had told her over and over. He had a connection to her and she meant far more to him than other women had after such a short time. Even when they were together the night before, he had continually commented on how amazing she was, how he had never felt this before, and that he wished it would never end. Afterward, he had taken her in his arms again, and she was sure if they weren’t so sleepy from the alcohol and the intense physicality of the act itself, they would have stayed up all night talking instead of falling asleep immediately afterward, still wrapped up in one another.

A warm feeling spread throughout Sammy’s body, completely bypassing the pounding migraine and horrible stomachache and making her feel as though she could conquer the world. If this was what it felt like to find your true, forever soul mate, then she wanted this feeling to last forever.

But she knew that couldn’t be it. Tom Hiddleston? Her soul mate? Loki? Really? Things like that didn’t happen to people like her.  
Sammy knew, subconsciously, that there was truth to it… whether she wanted to admit it or not. It was scary, knowing that you had met someone that could truly change your world, especially when that person really didn’t have the time or ability to love you, and vice versa. She didn’t know if it was possible to truly fall in love with Tom after having been hurt so badly by Zach. How could she ever trust another man, especially one that made a living being so good looking?

Sighing, Sammy knew she didn’t want to move from this bed. She kicked her legs out across the bed and realized, for the first time since she had woken up, that she was alone in the bed. She dared to open her eyes as slowly as possible and looked over at the right side of the bed, finding that it was, indeed, empty. In spite of her initial misgivings about Tom, her heart sank and she felt immensely hurt and disappointed that he had decided to pack up and sneak out without waking her first. Maybe she was wrong about what they had shared, although she was sure that she wasn’t. Then again, they had never discussed what was going to come next, so she couldn’t blame him for bailing. She considered for a moment that she might be bad in bed, but that just wasn’t true.

Sammy desperately wanted to take a shower before she had to check out. It was Monday afternoon, and Comic-Con was over. Almost every booth and panel had been taken down the day before, and Sammy wasn’t sure how she was going to make it back to her apartment in North County with this massive hangover. She wished for another day to recuperate, but she just couldn’t afford to stay in the hotel much longer. She was taking a big chance, having taken a full week off of work to regain some sanity and paying for this entire trip out of her savings, but instinctively, she knew that she needed it desperately.

Instead of wishing for more things she couldn’t have, she decided to settle on taking a nice hot shower before she gathered her things together, grabbed a coffee, and checked out of the hotel. Before she had the chance to swing her legs off of the side of the bed, though, the door to her room opened and startled her. She was even more surprised to see Tom stepping into the room, a pair of aviator sunglasses adorning his face. He was dressed down a little more than the night before, in what appeared to be a set of brand new clean clothes. He was carrying a small brown bag and two tall Starbucks coffee cups. He set everything down, including his wallet and a set of keys and turned toward her.

“Good morning, Samantha,” he said. “I was hoping you wouldn’t wake up before I got back. I didn’t want you to think I’d just woken and run out of here or something.” She watched his face, and he seemed genuinely concerned that she had thought that. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that not only had she believed it, she was actually coming to terms with it and was planning an escape of her own. He gave her a nervous smile before turning around and grabbing her coffee, coming to the other side of the bed to give it to her, and sitting next to her. “I decided to run out and get us some coffee and breakfast. I assumed you were feeling about as dreadful as I feel right now.”

Sammy was completely taken aback by this turn of events. Not only was he here, but he had actually woken up early despite his own hangover, to bring back coffee and breakfast for her. She felt even stronger for him as he scooted closer to her on the bed, reaching over and giving her a nice, long kiss. It was nice to feel his lips again, and they were just as soft and sweet as she remembered.

“Good morning,” he whispered to her, his grin spreading across his face.

“Morning,” she said back to him, not being able to stop her own smile from sliding up her face. Their foreheads were pressed together as they enjoyed this time together before the day got underway. Sammy closed her eyes and took in the moment with him, adoring everything she knew about him already. He was just the most real person she’d ever known.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of coffee you’d like,” he told her once they lifted their heads so that Sammy could take her beverage from him and delve into it. “I assumed you’d want something with some flavor, since you were drinking sweet mixed drinks last night.”

She frowned, downing some of the white chocolate mocha cappuccino and moaning at the delicious, refreshing flavor of it dancing on her tongue. He was right, but she was confused as to how he was able to tell that just by the kind of drink she had at the bar last night. She asked him, curious as to what his answer would be.

He was awkward about it as he kind of smiled to himself and answered. “I don’t know, I’ve met so many people that I’ve noticed certain things. Typically, people who prefer straight liquor or something simple usually opt for other simple things, like black coffee. It was a hunch. Did I get it right?”

“You did, surprisingly,” she told him with a grin. “I’ve never had this flavor before, I love it.”

“Good,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Nothing like waking up to a cup of coffee you don’t even like because some idiot didn’t bother asking what you wanted.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Sammy reassured him. She desperately wanted to be as forward as she was last night, reach out and touch him like they were lovers and had no problem giving one another affection, but she felt a little strange about it. She thought it was probably a bad idea to make herself feel too comfortable with him. She was pretty sure that any second now he would get a phone call or look at his watch and realize it was time to go, and that would be the end of that.

But once again, Tom surprised her. After staring into each other’s eyes for a long, silent moment, he gave her a dashing smile again and said, “I know this is going to be a bit odd, considering everything that happened last night, but I was wondering if you’d like to spend the day with me, escort me around San Diego, perhaps?”

Again, Sammy was taken aback. It was a little odd for him to wonder that, since their time together the night before was so intimate, but she shook it off because she instantly felt so excited about spending any time with him at all. She was scared to ask how much longer it was going to last, so she opted to overlook her trepidation and delve into the excitement.

“I would absolutely love to!” she said, beaming from ear to ear. “I was just about to get ready and go check out in a couple of hours, so we can start our day then.” She wanted to throw her arms around him and bring him in, assure herself one more time that he was real, but she managed to restrain herself.

Tom furrowed his brow once more, confusion spreading across his beautiful face. “You’re checking out today?”

“Well, yeah,” she replied, sipping her coffee. “I was only here for the weekend. I don’t have unlimited resources.”

He sighed heavily and pursed his lips at her. “You do realize that I have means? I can’t have you traipsing all over San Diego with your bags in tow.”

“Of course I realize you have means,” she said, rolling her eyes at him this time. If he was going to keep offering to pay for things for her, she knew eventually she was going to end up giving in to these offers. As proud as she was, she wasn’t made out of money. Besides, his ‘means’ were quite a bit larger than hers. “I am capable of providing for myself, though.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” he said, nodding. “I will gladly help you, I just…” he took a deep breath and looked away for a moment, a weird look passing over his face. Sammy couldn’t read it, and she prided herself on being able to read people well. Tom happened to be one of those special people that wore his emotions on his face, so he was especially easy to read. “I want to propose an idea to you, one that I’m not sure you’ll receive well. I suppose it’s definitely worth a shot.”

Once again, Sammy was confused. Not only was she naked under this sheet, sipping her coffee, but she was dirty, smelly, and felt disgusting after a wild night of sweating and tussling through the sheets. She didn’t even want to think about the pools of alcohol she had consumed, adding to her general disgusting appearance. She felt so raw to begin with and he was the one who was nervous! How was that even possible? The situation was almost comical.

“Go on, please,” she said, gesturing with her coffee. “The suspense is killing me.”

“Don’t be sarcastic,” he said, laughing.

“Then just say it!”

“Okay, I was thinking…” he paused one more time, taking a deep breath, and continuing, “that if it’s not too much trouble, I would love to spend more than just today with you. I don’t know about you, but what I felt last night was just so… real. I can’t explain it, especially since we really don’t know each other that well, but it’s like you and I were meant to be there last night. Everything was supposed to happen for a reason. Do you believe that?”

Sammy couldn’t breathe for a moment, remembering the words her mother used to speak to her, over and over, “Everything happens for a reason.” Losing her was devastating, and it hurt to hear someone else speak the same words she’d heard her entire life. Regardless, they were too true.

“I do believe that,” she said, a hitch in her voice. She tried to hide it from him and it seemed to work. He was too distracted by what he wanted to say.

“I don’t think that there’s a good reason to simply walk away from what we’ve shared,” he said with a sigh. What he had to say next seemed to make him feel slightly uncomfortable. “I’m not like most men in this respect. Having… uh, spent the night with a woman… means something to me, especially when it’s a woman I’ve already connected with on a deep, emotional level.”

Sammy agreed with that. She was not the one-night-stand type and didn’t think she ever would be. It astonished her right then to realize that aside from Zach, Tom was the only other man she’d ever slept with. She gulped past the giant lump in her throat. There was so much emotion welling up inside that she didn’t think she’d be able to speak right away.

“I went back to my room this morning to change,” he said, pointing to his fresh, clean clothes. “And I spoke with my publicist to make sure that I could rearrange some things this week, give me a small holiday. Fortunately, it seems I’m not due in to start another project for quite some time. I do, however, have more publicity to do for The Avengers, so my time really can’t be spared for more than a week.”

Sammy was still not quite following what Tom was proposing. He was all over the place trying to explain himself. “So… what does that mean?”

“That means I have the week off, and I’m trying to ask you if you would like to spend it with me.”

Sammy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. This proposition was incredibly tempting, and she wanted to immediately declare her acquiescence, but couldn’t seem to reconcile a few conflicting thoughts in her head. The timing was absolutely perfect, since she had scheduled herself the week off from work anyway, but had planned on spending that time locked away at home, relaxing and enjoying the time she had off. The idea of spending that short time off with this man was so appealing. She couldn’t help but wonder how she would feel at the end of this week, when she would have to say goodbye to him. If she felt this strongly after one short night, what would a week do to her, and would she be able to handle it emotionally?

She realized that she was taking an especially long time to answer him when she watched his expression fall from one of apprehension to thinly veiled fear that she hadn’t answered yet. She set her coffee down, scooted closer to him, and covered his hand with hers. It seemed to calm him considerably. Above all else, she didn’t want him thinking that she didn’t have the same feelings because she did. Tom just had the luxury of lending his heart out without the strings of recent heartbreak attached. How could she explain all of that to him without coming clean about what was going on?

The truth was, she couldn’t. Sammy realized then that the only way to get through to him and make him understand without hurting his feelings was just to tell him about Zach.

“I want to accept your gracious offer wholeheartedly, but first I have to tell you why I’m hesitant.”

“I’m all ears,” he told her sincerely, giving her a wide, albeit nervous smile.

“Okay,” she said, breathing deeply, closing her eyes and scooting closer to him on the bed. She made sure to wrap the sheet a little tighter around her chest. He had obviously seen her naked the night before, but in the light of day and without the influence of alcohol she felt a little more self-conscious. “I feel this… just this absolutely incredible bond with you, something that I’ve never felt… well ever, to be honest,” she started, granting from him another sweet smile. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t feel what you feel, ever. But…” Sammy took another moment to gather the courage to spit it all out at once before she lost her nerve again. “The depth of my feelings for you are scary to me because I really did just get out of a very serious thing… I think I told you last night that I’m very recently divorced, but I need to make sure you understand.”

Tom’s eyebrows shot up at this revelation, but Sammy noticed that he didn’t seem too surprised. He obviously had some recollection of her telling him the night before. “I think I remember you telling me that, but it’s all very hazy,” he explained, giving her a sheepish smile. He was embarrassed about getting so drunk last night, too. “I suppose I didn’t realize it was ‘very’ recent. I am so sorry,” he said, giving her fingers a tight, reassuring squeeze.

Sammy’s heart warmed at the gesture. “Thank you for the apology, but it’s really all right. Zach and I were high school sweethearts, so I had an idealistic idea of what love should be… That’s why what you and I have; this intense, instant passion for one another is so frightening to me.”

“I completely understand,” he said softly, reaching up with his other hand, placing two fingers underneath her chin, and lifting her head up to meet his eyes. “You are one of the most beautiful, amazing women I have ever met, and I’ve not even known you a day,” Tom said, his gorgeous accent giving the words he spoke an added sense of sincerity.

“I know,” she said, her eyes misting with a veil of unshed tears. “I feel every bit of it with you, and I realize that you also have things going on, a career to tend to, and you can’t very well drop everything to be with me, or anyone for that matter. I can’t see myself settling down and really trusting anyone right away…”

“So you’re proposing what exactly?” he asked, stroking her jawline with his fingertips, sending a chill up her spine.

“We spend this wild, fantastic week together, no holds barred, and at the end of it, no matter what we feel,” she took a deep breath and continued, “we agree to part ways, and hold onto what we’ve shared this week.”

Tom’s eyes gave away no emotion as he took in her face, drinking in every line and remaining agonizingly silent. After another few seconds, he leaned in and placed his lips upon hers gently, giving her a very sweet, brief kiss that seemed to convey everything his eyes wouldn’t express.

“Let’s get to it then,” he whispered, pushing her hair away from her face. “I don’t want to waste a single moment with you.”

Sammy sighed, quite obviously swooning under the gaze of this beautiful man. “I was just about to take a shower, and then we can get started.”

“Why not start there?” he said with a devilish grin and a playful look in his eyes.

Sammy felt her entire body flush with the memory of their lovemaking the night before and she definitely loved the idea of him joining her. “You didn’t take a shower before you left?”

“No, no, I just grabbed some clothes. I’m still very, very dirty,” he purred, and Sammy felt the goosebumps rise all over her flesh. If they had only a week together, she was going to savor each and every moment of it. She decided right then to shut off that voice in the back of her head telling her to take it slow and back off. Sammy launched herself into Tom’s arms, forgetting the sheet as it fell back onto the bed. He wound his arms around her back as he took her in, delving into her as though she were the final link to his forever. She felt validated and perfect in his embrace.

They pulled apart and he gave her that viciously mischievous smile before whispering, “Shall we?”

Sammy licked her lips, wanting to devour him completely. “Let’s.”


	7. Present Day

Present Day

I sit here at a table in a crowded sidewalk café, wondering what I am thinking. It has been so many years and I have probably made yet another bad decision. There is nothing that explains what I’m doing here except for a very, very sick desire and morbid curiosity that will probably not end well.

From the moment I opened up that damn email, I knew I was in trouble. I made sure to text Molly as soon as I read the contents of the message, unsure of what to do. After talking to my best friend, we still didn’t have a single clue as to what I should do about it.

I came up with the solution all by myself, and now I sit here at this café, waiting on bated breath for this meeting to commence. What was I thinking? Seriously!

I pick up my phone and check the time. I have given myself exactly ten minutes from the moment I was supposed to be here until I fully bail. I have two minutes left, and I find myself praying that they blow by quickly. I have already downed one full glass of ice water and I need another one. My mouth is dry and I am more nervous than I care to admit. Today, Molly has been wonderful enough to take Emma off of my hands for the afternoon. They hadn’t spent much time together lately and Molly knows that I need the time alone with this meeting so that I can get things straight in my head.

Another minute passes and I am so anxious to leave I feel my leg bouncing up and down under the table. I tell myself to wait the next minute out whether I want to or not, since I’ve already made this promise to myself, but I am hotly debating it in my head. One minute doesn’t matter, right? I should just go.

But as I am about to stand up, that is when I see my lunch guest. He looks just as I remember him and I find myself remembering everything about our time together and it nearly takes the wind out of me.

He ends up at my table, a tentative smile on his face, apprehension in his deep blue eyes. “Sammy, it’s so good to see you after so long.”

I smile as congenially as I can manage despite my nerves. As I stare into his face, all the waves of anger and betrayal come rolling back into my body, and I can’t help feeling a little angry that he’s chosen to contact me out of the blue. “Zach, it’s nice to see you, too.”

He sits down at the table opposite me, looking as nervous as I felt before he got here. Now I am grinding my clenched teeth, remembering everything that happened in our last few months of marriage, all of the hurt and the feeling that I’d never be able to trust another man again, which was what kept me from loving Tom with all of my heart. Irrationally, I feel as though Zach is to blame for everything I have gone through the past five years, even though I am an adult and made the agreement with Tom to keep our relationship only a week long all on my own.

“I am so surprised you agreed to meet me,” he says, placing his hands on the table as he leans forward. I can tell now that he is closer that he has aged, but he is aging well, damn him. The beautiful sapphires I once gazed into longingly are still as bright as ever, and he smiles the same, crooked with a somewhat smarmy tilt to it. He has a well-defined jaw line, a sharp chin, and one of the sexiest necks I have ever seen. Zach is built broad, like a football player should be, but not in an overly bulky way. He is also tall, somewhere around 5’10. Anything to my very tiny 5’2 is tall, though.

Yes, Zach looks exactly as I left him, and yet there is something more about him now that I can’t quite put my finger on. He looks the same in appearance, but I think he is carrying himself differently. He was once so cocky and entitled that I had a hard time being around him and not feeling incredibly inadequate. Now, he seems to come off as a more humbled version of the Zach I used to know.

This realization starts to melt my icy anger a little bit. I choose to ignore his previous statement, not wanting to get into all of the reasons I have for not contacting him again. It’s been five years, I’ve grown and matured. I am a mother, for crying out loud, not that naïve high school girl who was once under the spell of the big man on campus. I simply give him a smile and ask, “How have you been, Zach? It’s been a very long time.”

“Honestly, Sam, I’m here to make amends and beg you for forgiveness. I’ve had a rough few years,” he tells me, his eyes pleading and his tone shaky. I am so shocked at his demeanor entirely that I want to drop all of my defenses and say yes, but years with this man have taught me to be wary.

“I’m sorry for your struggle,” I say, trying to mask the sarcasm in my voice. I don’t do a great job.

“You have every right to still be angry with me, Sam,” he says, sitting back, dejected.

I sigh, rolling my eyes. “I’m not still angry, Zach,” I explain. “It’s more like… it took you nearly six years to come back and tell me that you’re sorry, and then in the same breath you try and get me to feel bad because you’ve had a bad time of it? I don’t think you have much to complain about until you’ve walked a mile in my shoes.”

“That’s the thing,” Zach says, looking away from me as he answers, “I have.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What?”

He takes a deep breath, blinking his eyes a few times before looking back at me. He is trying not to show me his weakness, and I know that he is essentially still the Zach I remember. He still hasn’t realized after all this time that showing me his vulnerability will actually go a lot further to gaining my forgiveness than acting brave. “I just recently went through a divorce,” he tells me.

I can’t say I’m horribly surprised to hear that another of his relationships has failed, but I am a little surprised to hear that he even bothered getting married again. “Wow, I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding as he grips the glass of water that a passing waitress has just filled for him. “I met her a couple years after you and I were over, and I was really crazy about her…” I gulp past the uncontrollable wave of anger that has formed in the back of my throat. He has the nerve to sit here and tell me about the new wife he was ‘crazy’ about in front of the wife he threw away? I resist the urge to slap the shit out of him. “I just kind of jumped into it without thinking it through, kind of ignoring her past… and it slapped me in the face. I caught her in the act, and she acted like it was my fault. We were only married a year and a half.”

I want to laugh in his face, taunt him and ask him how it feels to be betrayed by the person you are so in love with that you are willing to overlook their past and all of the red flags that are thrown up… but I don’t. I keep quiet, because I know the deep, dark pain of loss and betrayal, and I would never wish that on anyone, even Zach. And besides that, I have known true, real love, and it sounds as though Zach hasn’t yet. Suddenly, the anger ebbs and I am left with a pity for my ex-husband.

“So after I went through all of that, battled all of my demons, and got some much needed advice from professionals, I decided it was time to make amends with you and tell you how sorry I am,” he says, finally looking into my eyes, baring everything. I am taken aback, and my breath hitches in my throat. Aside from the anger, pity, and general sadness I am feeling, I start to acknowledge a very familiar emotion creeping back into my heart, and I try, in vain, to make it go away.

I am starting to feel longing again.

“If I ever made you feel even a fraction of what I felt after my divorce, Sam, I am the worst man in the world, and I am so, so sorry,” he says, and he reaches his hand out to me, fingers outstretched. I want to ignore it, be the cold, unfeeling woman I’ve always told myself I would be if Zach ever showed up in my life again… but that has never been me, and I am even softer now that I am a mother as well. I reach out, take his rough, calloused hand in mine, and feel the surge of memories flooding through my entire being. I see our first date, our first time, our wedding day, our move to California, and every other happy moment we shared together. It is so overwhelming to me that I feel a cold tear seep out of my eye slowly. I love the person I am now, I love everything about my life, but I am so lonely.

And as I am looking at Zach and feeling his coarse fingers caressing the back of my hand I am reminded of all the things I left behind when I decided that the marriage had to end. I don’t want him back necessarily, but I can’t let go of all the things he gave me. Zach was my first everything, and other than Tom, was my only everything. How can I just turn my back on that?

But before I get too wrapped up in the thoughts, I take my hand back, remembering how unfair the entire situation would be in general if I were to even give this a thought. I have come to terms with our marriage ending and the circumstances surrounding the divorce, and am for the most part, at peace with it. I am deeply in love with another man, still, after five years, a man, I might add, that is the father of my four year old daughter… I can’t do that to myself, Emma, Zach, or Tom. The entire situation is a mess.

Without warning, I feel the tears burst from my eyes, and I am unable to contain myself. Zach jumps back at my outburst, startled, and then as I am making a fool of myself in this public setting, he gets up out of his chair and comes around to me, taking me in his arms.

He is warm and solid and has the same scent to him that he had so many years ago. I cannot believe how much the mere smell of him has overloaded my senses. Being in his arms feels so warm and accepting, as it always did. That was one thing Zach could always do, when he cared enough to do it, and that was to make me feel welcome in his arms. Tom had a different way of holding me. He always made me feel sexy, desired, and needed, like he couldn’t get enough of me and never wanted to let me go. With Zach, it was a comfort thing, which I think is the reason so many women are attracted to Zach. He makes them feel welcome with just one embrace. Tom’s most special hugs were reserved for those he needed, and as I am here, in Zach’s arms, I find myself longing for that feeling again so badly that it physically hurts.

I decide it’s best to calm myself down quickly, as Zach has come here for his own penance, not to nurse me through a crisis of loneliness. I push him away as soon as I have the strength to remove myself from his arms, and sit back in my chair as he returns to his. I wipe my eyes hurriedly before I have a chance to explain myself.

“I’m such an idiot,” I say, shaking my head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I should,” I set the napkin down and fold my hands in my lap, trying to pretend as if the incident hadn’t just happened. “I can’t go around crying every time someone shows me attention just because I’m lonely.” I finish my thought with a heavy breath.

Zach gives me the sweetest smile he can manage and it appears as though he is about to lean in and take my hand again. I don’t know if I can let him. “I’m lonely, too.”

Deep down, I know it shouldn’t matter to me if Zach is lonely, but I can’t help but feel a little comforted at the thought. It has been so long since I’ve even considered the possibility of letting another man into my heart. Tom was it, emotionally as well as physically. How can I even think of bedding another man when I have a child that is the product of the greatest love affair of my entire life? What kind of justice am I doing the man I love so much? Then again, he is probably having all kinds of fun without me, so why should I deny myself? After all, it’s been five years…

“Listen, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Zach says. “I just came here to tell you that I’ve grown up a lot since we last saw each other, and I wanted to make sure you knew how deeply, truly sorry I am for what I did. I don’t know why I did it or why I acted like I did that led up to the end of our marriage… I was stupid. I couldn’t really accept the fact that I had gotten married so young, couldn’t accept your love…” he pauses, trailing off for a second, and then sits back in his chair, withdrawing his hands from the table. He runs a hand over his face and I suddenly notice just how tired and worn Zach really is. He’s much different than the carefree kid I was married to. “The truth is, I peaked in high school and I struggled every day dealing with that, watching you succeed in school, making friends and taking in so many job offers when the best thing I did was football in high school.”

I am, needless to say, shocked to hear him confess all of this. Honestly, I always suspected after our divorce that this could all be a possibility, but I never really thought Zach would ever have the emotional maturity or mental clarity to realize any of it.

“I’m really proud of you that you can admit all of it,” I finally tell him, because I have to say something to his confession that isn’t, ‘Yeah, I figured.’

“It definitely took a long time, a second divorce, and a lot of counseling to come to the realization, but I’m glad I was finally able to tell you all of it,” Zach says, a satisfied and tired smile crossing his handsome features. “I’ve been meaning to write you a letter, but my counselor kept saying it would be better if I just waited until I had the strength to tell you in person.”

I frown. I never really expected a therapist to advise an actual one on one confrontation with an ex-spouse. “That’s odd, why not write a letter?”

He shrugs. “I suppose it was all the guilt I was carrying around with me. He just didn’t seem to think it would be enough to write a letter, because it would still bother me not knowing what your response is and not knowing if you ever had it in your heart to forgive me.”

My heart thuds a little, seeing this side of him. Maybe he has grown up, because this is a side of Zach I’m not used to seeing. He doesn’t do this opening up thing very often, and I can’t believe I can feel myself really falling into it.

“I loved you and I loved my second wife, Sam, but it took me all of that pain and hurt and two divorces to really realize… you were the one that meant the most to me. You were always my sweetheart, the one that got away,” he says quietly, as though he really doesn’t want me to hear any of this confession.

To be honest, I am floored. I never really thought that Zach had any use for me at all after we were in California. I know that he had some love for me, I never doubted that at all, but to hear that he feels as though I am the one that got away? It just doesn’t seem real.

“If you’re willing…” he says, and he sits forward, extending his hand to me one more time. All at once, the feelings I have welling up inside of me from the lack of emotional contact and overwhelming nostalgia are replaced by my deep, dark depression about losing Tom. I am reminded, in this one simple gesture, of the first night I met Tom and our very first tentative bodily contact. We held hands from the moment we met and we never let go until we had to… I am starting to tear up, and if I don’t break away soon, I am going to end up sobbing again in the middle of this restaurant, and it won’t be nearly as ladylike this time.

I shake myself. “I’m sorry, Zach… I just… I can’t…”

He frowns. “Why? Is there someone else?”

Just as I look up to answer him, I see something dawning slowly over his features, and before I can cut off his train of thought before it reaches its inevitable conclusion, my phone starts going off. I peer down and see that it is Molly. While I’m thankful for the excuse to break away from this conversation, I am also annoyed at Molly’s persistence. I love her to death, and I will always appreciate her in my life, but there are times when I wish she would give me the chance to call her for the updates.

After the phone is done ringing, it is immediately followed by another call. The last time Molly was this insistent in getting me on the phone, she had sent me that video of Tom. My heart starts slamming in my chest, and I decide that my best option is to just pick up the phone.

“Sorry, I really need to take this,” I tell Zach before answering. “What is it, Moll?” I ask, flashing Zach an apologetic smile to ensure he knows how badly I do not want to inconvenience him.

“Listen, I’m really, really sorry to interrupt your little weird reunion, but Emma is sick and I figured you’d want to be interrupted for it,” she is telling me frantically.

Immediately, everything I have worried about all afternoon disappears and the only thing I am thinking of is Emma. “Is she all right? What’s going on?”

“Well, out of nowhere she spiked a fever and I was going to get her in a cool bath, but I wasn’t sure. I assumed you would want to know,” Molly says. I hear Emma in the background, the tone of whininess that I normally associate with an illness.

“Okay, what was her temperature?”

“I just took it a few minutes ago and we were still at about 102,” she tells me.

“All right, is that it, or is there anything else going on? Is she puking, coughing, anything like that?” I rack my brain as I am asking this, because she’s had fevers before, and usually I would have noticed if the onset was a cold or a flu well in advance. There has been no sign of either.

“No, nothing like that, but she’s tired and feeling a little achy. At least that’s what she keeps telling me. I didn’t think it was necessary to race her to the doctor, but I figured you would want to take her home,” Molly says, and as she is talking, I can tell she has just turned on her vehicle and is on the road, presumably to bring Emma back to me.

“No, no, you don’t need to do that, especially if it’s nothing more than a low grade fever,” I say, reciting from my memory exactly what my pediatrician has told me in the past. “I’m still at the café, if you want to bring her here and I can take her home.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

“Thanks, Molly, I really appreciate you doing that.”

“No problem, sweetie. Love ya.”

“Love you, too. See you in a minute,” I say, and hang up. I am not overly concerned about my daughter. I have to get her home, give her some acetaminophen, plant her in front of the TV (she gets the privilege of watching when she’s sick), and call her doctor and set up a follow up sometime this week so I know that it’s not something more serious.

I am making all of these notes in my head quickly before I turn and remember that I am not alone at this table. Zach is sitting there with a confused expression on his face, as though he is trying to put together the pieces of my side of the conversation. He’s not a complete idiot so I know he will figure it out.

“Sammy,” he says quietly. I know by his tone that he has finally managed to reach his conclusion. “Do you have kids?”

“Kid, one kid, singular,” I tell him, not being able to suppress a small smile at the astonished look on his face. “A four year old daughter, Emma.”

“Emma… four… but…” he starts putting it together, his brows furrowed in deep confusion and I find that everything I was hoping for and feeling is kind of starting to dissipate. I feel like I know what he’s going to ask, and it annoys me that he would even assume that my daughter is his as well. “She’s not… mine, is she?”

I don’t know what pisses me off more about the way he asks it, the fact that he thinks I would keep that from him before we were even divorced, or the fact that he sounds as though if I say ‘yes’ he will have a reason to run away and never look back.

At one point, married to this man, I thought maybe he wanted a family. Obviously, I was dead wrong.

I shake off the anger I feel and roll my eyes at him. “First of all, Zach, if I had gotten pregnant before we got divorced, I would have told you. I doubt it would have changed what happened, but it definitely would have changed things in the divorce proceedings, and you can be damn sure I would have made sure my baby was taken care of,” I say to him in a very snotty tone. For some reason, he needs to know, above all else, I’m a good mother. I have my reasons for not telling Tom about Emma, but Zach is an entirely different person, and that would have been an entirely different situation. “And second of all, do the math. She’s four. The last time you and I had sex was over six years ago. The math doesn’t work.”

Zach is still frowning, probably trying to match up dates and figure things out. “But didn’t you and I have sex once right before the divorce went through?”

Zach really shouldn’t have said anything at all. He should have trusted me and understood that I knew who the father of my child was. The insinuation that my math was so wrong not only hurt, but made me feel dirty, no matter how pure my relationship with Tom was. However, of all the things he could have said, Zach’s mention of this last conjugal visit only made me that much angrier because he was remembering everything wrong. I wasn’t the one he had sex with right before the divorce was final. It was someone else.

It’s not necessarily that I an angry about the fact that he was having sex with other women while we were in divorce proceedings. Obviously if he didn’t respect me during the marriage proper, he wasn’t going to change his tune during the dissolution of our marriage either. However, his inability to keep the women straight in his head meant one of two things: he was having sex with so many women at the time that he couldn’t remember exactly who it was he’d been screwing right around that time, or I meant so little to him that my face was as interchangeable as any one of those bimbos he had on the side. Either way, it didn’t bode well for what I meant to him.

I stand up forcefully, nearly knocking my chair back. I can’t imagine what the other patrons are thinking of this crazy woman that is sobbing uncontrollably one minute and throwing her chair around the next, but the thought of it makes me want to laugh. This will probably only make me look more insane. I glare down at Zach, and finally have the nerve to spit out, “You haven’t changed one bit. You can’t remember when we had sex last? Well, let me remind you. It was our anniversary. That was it. After that, you all but quit speaking to me entirely. It took me one more month to find you in bed with whatever her name was, and six months after that before we were officially divorced. Six months after that is when I met my daughter’s father, so you’re talking a year of gapped time between you and Emma’s father.”

“So your daughter isn’t about to turn five?”

“You son of a bitch,” I hiss, barely able to contain my fury at this point. He is still questioning my daughter’s paternity, like this is some kind of trashy daytime TV show and I need a paternity test to make sure. “When I tell you I know who my daughter’s father is, and that that person is not you, you better damn well shut up and believe what I have to say. I don’t owe you any explanations, Zach. You cheated on me. You grew distant and you took advantage of the fact that I was there, willing to love and cherish you until death do we part. I’m sure you assumed you could have gone on doing what you were doing forever and I would have just put up with it, because I was so desperate and needy, but you were wrong, and you know what? Karma bit you in the ass on that one, and as sorry as I am to hear that you were hurt, Zach, I do believe that you needed to see, from my point of view, what I went through when we were together. Maybe I wasn’t all that memorable to you, Zach, but I’ll tell you something, my daughter’s father… he sure seemed to think I was memorable. He and I shared something incredibly special, something I am so devastated we couldn’t continue, but it was real, and it made Emma, the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Damn you for assuming I don’t know where she comes from, and making what I had with Tom feel so inadequate.”

“Tom?”

My heart sinks into my stomach. This is the one thing I was trying my hardest to avoid. If it so happened that I ended up telling Zach about Emma, I didn’t want him knowing her parentage, so referring to Tom as ‘Emma’s father’ was the safest way to do it. I knew Zach would be able to put it all together, figure out who ‘Tom’ was if I mentioned it.

And here it was. I had just said it out loud, made it real, and now…

“That picture… that was you, wasn’t it?”


	8. Five Years Ago: Day Three

Day Three

Sammy’s phone went off at seven the next morning, letting her know that the new day had begun. She moved her legs over on the bed to find that, once again, the other side was empty. She sat up and stared at it, wishing that for once, Tom would just stay there before immediately hopping up and running off to do errands before she woke up.

Because of Tom’s career, he had to be a morning person. This was something she was not used to, but she was okay with the lack of sleep that came with sucking every single moment out of their time together.

Instead of getting too upset with him, Sammy swung her legs out of the bed and went to the bathroom, ready to hop in the shower. She found herself smiling, remembering everything they had done the day before.

After spending a very memorable twenty minutes in the shower that led back out to the bedroom for another hour, they dressed and headed out to lunch. Over their lunch, they talked about all kinds of different things, things they hadn’t discussed over their drinks the night before. Sammy was most interested to hear about Tom’s career, the different people he’d worked with and met, how he felt about all of his projects, and so much more. She let him talk about it for a couple of hours, only interjecting occasionally to ask other probing questions. He was all too eager to discuss it with her, and she was moved to see his deep passion for his work. She didn’t think she’d ever met anyone that passionate about what they did and it was incredibly inspiring. Sammy found herself completely falling under his spell as he spoke, his soft voice speaking about all of the great actors and projects he was working on and how much he really loved the industry. She didn’t want to stop him to even ask questions at time. She just wanted to watch him speak.

He would stop now and then to apologize and laugh at himself, always a gentleman, making sure he told her he didn’t want to keep dominating the conversation. She would always insist he keep talking about it, and at one point when he asked her why she wanted to know so much, she told him it was because she had nothing nearly as interesting to contribute.

It was then that they were done with lunch and Tom decided that she definitely had something interesting to contribute. Sammy certainly wasn’t going to berate herself or make herself sound inferior to him, because she wasn’t. His career was just more interesting, in her opinion. Tom told her she was wrong, and asked her to show him some places around San Diego so that she could delve into her own backstory.

Sammy was able to tell Tom everything about herself and what she wanted to do. He already knew that she was trying to get work as a journalist, but when he probed her for further information about her passion, she began to tell him her ideas of the novel she wanted to write. Sammy confessed that her greatest aspiration was to write something inspirational, something that young, teenage girls could really benefit from. She felt as though young girls were being led astray a lot nowadays, what with the intervention of abstinence only education, the unequal pay for women in most work forces, and other such things that kept young women from really getting to know themselves that someone had to step up and take the lead. Tom was impressed with her passion just as much as she had been impressed with his.

Sammy stripped down and stepped into the shower, turning the hot water on and allowing it to run over her as she remembered every sweet moment they shared, enjoying the harbor surrounding the convention center and taking the day in slowly, getting to know one another, and overall, being affectionate and loving. That was the thing she probably loved the most about the entire day, the little things that she noticed that Tom would do, things you notice about someone when you start a relationship. He talked emphatically with his hands, while constantly sweeping his hair back. He smiled all the time, laughing, and enjoying life. She really didn’t think the man had a negative thought in his head.

It was also the things he would do for her. He loved to hold her hand. That was his biggest thing. Even if it was a loose grip, he wanted his hand in hers. When they stopped and took something in, every time she started talking, his hand was on her back, either just holding her or caressing her back gently, as though he always wanted her to feel comfortable and relaxed. 

Occasionally he would reach up and brush the hair out of her face, or in a silent moment, he would stop and just completely take her in, stroking the skin of her cheeks before placing his lips on hers gently.

He was always a perfect gentleman, expressing the right amount of public affection, but never taking it too far. Sammy continually felt more like she was on a honeymoon with a man she had known for ages rather than a perfect stranger she’d only met the night before. It was simply amazing, overall how comfortable she felt with Tom. His ease and charm definitely helped make her feel closer to him, but it was so much more than that. It was deeper, and as Sammy stood in the shower, forgetting why she had gotten in there in the first place, she realized that whatever she felt for Tom that first night had only become more intense.

The door to the hotel room opened and Tom stepped in, calling Sammy’s name. That was one other thing Sammy desperately adored about him, his staunch refusal to call her by her nickname. He wanted to especially call her ‘Samantha,’ something that truly was all his. No one else called her that, and he knew it.

“I’m in here!” she called to him, smiling in spite of herself. It took every ounce of restraint to keep her from leaping out of the shower and into his waiting arms.

“Am I really so dirty that you feel the need to bathe after we’ve had a romp?” he asked, coming into the bathroom to greet her in the shower.

Sammy giggled, poking her head out from behind the curtain. “‘Had a romp?’” she repeated, doing a poor imitation of his posh London accent.

“At least I don’t say things like, ‘Yeah, dude we totally banged last night, man,’” he said, doing his own poor imitation of what Sammy could only assume was supposed to be a frat brother.

“Wow, yeah, I sound just like that,” she said, rolling her eyes and delving back into the shower.

“‘Wow, yeah, I sound just like that,’” he imitated again, putting an emphasis on her short ‘a’ sounds in ‘yeah’ and ‘that.’

“Would you prefer I talk like this in the bath, while we go down to the car park?” she teased, doing what she considered a decent imitation of his proper estuary English.

“Car park, parking lot, it’s all the same shit,” he said, and a moment after that he hopped into the shower with her, took her in his arms, and all talk of accents was forgotten.

Sammy and Tom enjoyed each other for a while in the shower, not getting clean at all, before they decided to move their fervor back into the bedroom. Sammy thought Tom was unbelievably sexy when he was dripping wet, naked, and so full of desire that he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. She wrapped her arms around him, fingers clutching and clawing at his wet, slippery skin. He was overtaking her lips so vigorously that she knew afterward they would be raw and swollen and she was going to make every single second of this count. He was gripping her firmly, so firmly that she was sure he thought she would dissolve if he let go. It saddened her a little, knowing their time was so short and knowing how desperately they were starting to want one another… but she tried to let it go. All that mattered right now was Tom, completely filling up her senses, giving her every bit of satisfaction that she needed and so craved.

They landed on the bed together, rolling around in the sheets, laughing and enjoying themselves for the time being. Sammy expected them to get right down to it, as they had been leading up to it so anxiously for the last half hour, but for a moment, Tom paused and stared down at her expectant face. Sammy looked deep into his sea blue eyes, swimming with the unspoken emotions of this arrangement. She saw in him how exposed he was, open and raw like a nerve as his gaze swept over her face, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips, his entire expression soft and wistful.

It took him so long to speak that Sammy giggled uncomfortably, finally speaking up. “What is it?”

He chuckled at this, letting his hand graze her face, sweeping some of her hair away as he took a moment to respond to her. “It’s nothing really, I’m just taking you in,” he told her, and then, losing all pretense of humor, he continued softly, “just making sure I remember every line of your face.”

Sammy’s smile faded as well, recalling just how little time they really had together. This was the beginning of their third day together; their time was nearly half over. The thought sobered her so that she felt it start to resonate in her heart, deeply upsetting her. It must have shown on her face, because Tom frowned then, concern in his voice as he asked her what was wrong.

Sammy swallowed past the lump forming in her throat, trying to debate on whether or not she should tell him what was crossing her mind. Their agreement hinged on the fact that they weren’t going to get too caught up in this. They were going to have fun while they were together, and when it came time to part ways, that would be that.

But Sammy knew instinctively as she watched Tom’s expression that this was much, much more serious than either of them planned. Maybe it was true that they were fated to meet, that they were connected on a deeper level, but the overwhelming power of those feelings so quickly was most surprising. Instead of waiting for a response, Tom simply readjusted himself, lying next to her. He ran his long graceful fingers down her body, stopping on her hip and gripping her softly.

“If we’re going to do this, make this real for the time we have it, I think it’s important that we’re honest with one another, or else, what was the point?” he told her, a resolute smile on his lips.

Sammy wanted to roll right into his arms and kiss him for his integrity, but she was somewhat reluctant. “You think that’s such a good idea, Tom? I mean, really?”

“Why not?” he asked, seemingly genuinely confused.

“You really want us to be honest, in such a short amount of time together, when it’s probably best…” she stopped and tried to steady her voice, “when it’s probably best if we’re not too involved, in case it makes this harder?”

Tom said nothing, moving closer to her, his hand immediately meeting her face. The look in his eyes was that of longing, a look that she had never seen in any man’s eyes before, much less this man. He was able to convey so much in just a look, which was one of the things she knew made him such an amazing actor. Somehow, though, Sammy knew that this look was something reserved just for her.

“Samantha,” he breathed, stroking small circles on her cheek lightly with his thumb. “Why deny anything, if we’re doing this at all? If we weren’t being honest with each other from the beginning, this would have ended after that first night. I have been more open with you than anyone in a very long time. Why not just put it all out there? Why not put it on the line?”

“I just don’t want to get hurt again,” she confessed, trying her hardest to fight the tears that were threatening to pour down her face.

“What is life and love if we don’t risk anything at all, Samantha? Why wouldn’t you want to put it all on the line, if it means for one spectacular, shining moment you can feel something spectacular, something you’ve never felt before?”

“How are you always so poetic?” she asked him. Sammy’s eyes betrayed her, a cold tear making its way down her cheek. Tom wasted no time in wiping it away. With this one gesture, Sammy felt all of the ice she had encasing her heart finally start to melt away. If he was going to share himself and allow her to see him in his most vulnerable state, why shouldn’t she do the same? He had just as much at stake in this as she did. It was only fair.

And besides, the thought of being able to share the most intimate pieces of herself again with someone sounded very nice.

Tom didn’t answer her. He leaned in, winding his arm around her waist to pull her closer, and placed his lips down on hers gently. It was soft and sweet, telling Sammy that everything she was thinking, feeling, and not saying aloud was exactly what he felt as well. She had never quite had a connection to anyone else like this. It was almost as though she was able to read his thoughts and tell what he was thinking just by being in his proximity.

Once their passion resumed and they were finally getting into the act she had so desperately been craving all morning, Sammy realized with a surprise that this time, as Tom entered and buried himself deep inside of her, clinging to her and claiming her as his own, that the intensity of their lovemaking had increased in a way that nearly took her breath away. She clawed at his back as she was overtaken by the physical force, waves of unbridled pleasure, and the sheer, utter magnitude of her feelings for him.

She knew, unequivocally, as they clung to each other out of need, want, and a soulful bond that tethered them so closely that she was in danger of falling for him.

 

Sammy and Tom took their time together that day, tumbling in the sheets, enjoying several hours of lovemaking, talking, eating, and relaxing. Tom confessed to her that he never got the chance to ‘lie-in’ too often, so staying in the hotel room for a little while wasn’t too big a deal. She was grateful, because she was enjoying their new honest way of communicating.

He delved in and asked her about her divorce, not wanting to upset her, but really curious as to what happened. Sammy geared up to tell him the whole thing and hadn’t realized how much it still bothered her that she had been tossed aside so easily.

“It’s not even really the fact that I found Zach with someone else and knew that he had been unfaithful. I mean, I’m not proud of it, I’m sure no person is, but that’s something I could have forgiven him for…” she felt awkward telling him this, trying not to look him in the eye. She knew that he wasn’t going to say anything as she spoke, though. “It was the fact that he did it without even giving a second thought as to how it would make me feel. Those last few months were the worst. I tried hard to make it work, but he just… he was just able to throw me away.” She stopped before she started to sob. Sammy was fine with their agreement, being honest and sharing everything, but crying like a baby, hiccupping and letting her nose run was just another matter entirely. It didn’t matter who he was, movie star or not, she wasn’t going to snot all over a sweet, loving man like Tom. “I keep thinking that it’s somehow my fault…” she trailed off, staring hard into the distance as she contemplated everything, letting it run through her head. Was it her fault?

Tom wouldn’t stand for her pity, though. “Are you taking a piss right now? I mean, really?”

“Excuse me?” Sammy said, confusion reigning supreme in her mind at this exclamation.

“Are you joking?”

“Er… no…?”

He chuckled for a moment at her puzzled face but quickly regained his composure. It was still a serious moment. “You can’t think like that anymore, do you understand me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Samantha, you have to know…” he began, and she watched him for a moment as he struggled to find the right words. Instead of immediately continuing, he sat up in the bed, reached out for her hand, and brought it up to his lips, giving it a small, sweet kiss before he answered. “You must realize that you are not hard at all to forget, and you are certainly not easy to toss away.”

Sammy rolled her eyes at him, not being able to control the small smile that started at the corner of her lips. “Tom, you barely know me…”

“That may be so, but I’d like to think that the fault lies with Zach, and not you,” he said, catching her gaze, his eyes misty as they crinkled with the light of his smile. “After all, I couldn’t let you go after one night. Do you honestly believe that I would still be here if you were at all easy to forget?”

Sammy said nothing to this, because in her rush and need to tell the story, she hadn’t even stopped to realize that maybe it wasn’t her. Tom was right. He was still here after their one night encounter when she was sure that she would never see him again. She peered down at their still joined hands on the bed, wondering how hard it would be to say goodbye to him after this short time if it was so strong already.

“I’m never going to forget you,” he whispered, which prompted her gaze to rise from their intertwined fingers and into his eyes, which were looking especially blue green and glassy right now, so much pouring out of them that she had to take a moment so she could remember how to breathe.

The next few words that came out of her mouth were spoken almost without comprehension. They came so directly from the heart that she couldn’t stop them. “I know we promised to be honest, Tom,” she said quietly, unable to tear her eyes away from his, “so you have to know that every time you speak, I find myself wishing over and over that you and I had more time, because I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without ever seeing you again.”

Tom pulled her close then, kissing her deeply. Sammy knew the instant their lips met that this kiss was the beginning of something very, very different than what they had been doing before. Every time they kissed before, Sammy had known that something amazing was happening, that they were opening the door to something big… but now, to the very depths of her soul, she knew that the door had been opened. She just had to accept what was on the other side.

Tom’s hand slid gently to the nape of her neck, holding her as close as he dared to get. The moment between them was so raw that Sammy felt tears start to sting at the corners of her eyes. Before they had a chance to leak down her cheeks, Tom pulled back and set his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed.

“Don’t ever feel like you aren’t enough for me, Samantha,” he said quietly. “Because you are slowly becoming my everything.”

Sammy felt all the air leave her body and the next thing she knew, they were entwined in bed again, expressing their feelings in the deepest, closest way they knew how. It was absolutely poetry in motion, their bodies engaged in this act of love making. It took every last ounce of Sammy’s willpower to keep her emotions contained, because with every single kiss or gentle touch, Sammy knew more and more that she was going to lose her heart to this man.

Afterward, they lay together in silence, holding each other as they caught their breath and waited for all the pure emotion to fade before they chose to speak again. Sammy realized, though, that after ten minutes, there was not going to be any chance of this fading from the air. They were going to have to accept what was happening and continue on with the rest of their week so they didn’t waste any time together. They had spent the better part of the day in the hotel room, delving into one another passionately, and Sammy had enjoyed every moment of it.

She gathered all of her courage and moved her head to gaze up at Tom. She was surprised to see that he was staring at her, the expression in his eyes so stripped away that she was taken aback for a moment. He gave her the warmest of smiles, one that travelled all the way up to his eyes. Finally, she talked herself into saying what she needed to say to him. “All that time I spent with Zach, feeling as though I wasn’t enough for him has led me to this place where I’m ready to be enough for someone else.” Tom smiled a little brighter, and she had the strength to continue. “There’s something about you that makes me feel so comfortable, so needed and desired… It will be hard for me to walk away from that.”

Tom squeezed her tighter, leaning down and kissing her head. “You will always be needed and desired, Samantha, even when I’m not with you.”

It was too depressing to lie around, thinking about the time when they wouldn’t be together. Sammy decided it was time to get up and enjoy the time they actually did have together. Within a few minutes, they were preparing to head out. It was mid-afternoon at this point, so they decided to go grab an early dinner and then go to the Gaslamp District, the historic entertainment district of downtown San Diego. Sammy always enjoyed going down there after the sun fell and the gas lamps were lit. Often, there would be performers out and about, playing for the crowds, taking requests, and accepting tips for their work. It was the best way to enjoy a romantic evening.

At dinner, Sammy and Tom didn’t talk about anything else that they had discussed in the hotel room. Sammy still felt that there was so much to know about Tom. She wanted to know as much as she absolutely could before they parted ways, and there was only so much time for talking in between the sightseeing and genuine enjoyment of what they were doing, not to mention all the kissing and love making.

They had talked about their lives, their careers, all their likes, dislikes, and had delved into the deeply personal territory of former relationships and lovers. Sammy asked Tom what he saw for himself in the future when they sat down to eat, and the conversation started becoming more and more personal with every passing minute without Sammy ever really meaning for it to.

“Honestly, where do you see yourself going? What do you want out of life?” Sammy asked as she sipped her white wine, trying not to think too hard about who he might end up with in the future.

“Hmm,” he thought for a moment, setting his own wine glass down after deciding how best to answer. “I suppose it depends on the luck of the draw, in my career anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, my career is quite heavily weighted in what the public wants,” he explained to her. “If no one wants to see my movies, I don’t have much of a career, do I?”

“That makes sense, but I highly doubt you’re going anywhere soon,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” he told her with a laugh.

“Why not? Are you even aware of how popular you are? How popular The Avengers franchise is? All of us comic book geeks have been dying for a good representation of these stories we’ve all grown up with, and I know that Marvel is planning to run the course over the next few years. You have that to keep everyone’s eyes open,” Sammy explained, not sure why he was being so modest.

“While I do understand all of that, it’s also arrogant to just go ahead and assume that I’m going to be relevant in two, three years,” he said. “There’s always someone hotter and younger.”

“I doubt that,” Sammy mumbled, trying to be quiet. Tom caught it anyway and gave her a small wink. “Regardless,” she said, after giggling a bit, “you’re a terrific actor, something that’s not affected by how many fan girls are drooling over you at the moment. I would think that you know that better than anyone that the merit of someone isn’t on the surface. It’s much deeper.”

“Well put, darling, well put,” he said, raising his glass to hers. They clinked and drank, and Tom continued. “I appreciate your faith in me, though. I really do. Sometimes, to me it feels so…temporary, like the enthusiasm of these ‘fan girls’ and ‘comic book geeks’ isn’t going to last. I feel as though I’m skating on borrowed time, and after that, I’ll just be another boring British actor dying out on West End performing the forgotten words of Shakespeare.”

Sammy had to roll her eyes at this. “First of all, no one is ever going to forget the words of the bard,” she said, eliciting from him a wide grin. “Second of all, what is all this about ‘borrowed time’ and ‘dying out?’ Knock it off! I’ve only known you for three days and you’re already one of the most upbeat, pleasant people I’ve ever met. I didn’t think you had the capacity to think negatively.”

“Everyone has the capacity to think negative thoughts,” he answered. “The difference is whether or not we choose to express it.”

“Agreed,” she said, loving the way he could string words together so beautifully. “And as much as I love that you are sharing with me and opening yourself up, we both know that you know better. You’re going to be out there for years.”

He shrugged, giving her a sheepish smile in return. “If I admit you’re right, I’m arrogant. If I don’t, I’m being too modest. I can’t win!”

“Oh, poor baby,” she said sarcastically, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes yet again. “You get to be a famous actor forever and you can’t brag about it. Let me get the violin guy to play you a sad song,” she said, turning in her seat to seek out said musician.

He leaned over the table and took her hand quickly, laughing his short, sweet giggle that she adored so much. She turned back to him, batting her lashes and smiling as sweetly as she could. “You don’t have to do that, I’ll be quiet.”

“You don’t have to be quiet. Just shut up,” she said, which elicited another, bigger laugh. He ran his hand through his shortly cropped dark hair and shook his head at her.

“Sometimes I feel like you Americans have the ability to make an insult sound like a compliment. I don’t know what it is.”

Sammy shrugged. “At least I’m not fat, lazy, or stupid, right?”

“We don’t think that,” he started, then looked around quickly, “not all of us, anyway.”

They enjoyed a laugh as their food finally came and their conversation ceased for a moment. After they spoke a little more about his career and what he would like to accomplish, Sammy asked him what else he would like to have in the future. He took a deep breath after he chewed and swallowed his food, staring off into space as it appeared he was contemplating how to answer this question.

“I really think that someday… I’d like to settle down,” he answered her, desperately trying to avoid eye contact. Sammy felt her heart pounding in her chest, her stomach doing flip flops as he confessed to these very personal aspirations. “I love my life, my career, and what I do, but at some point, it would be nice to share all of that with someone. Be able to go home and have it really feel like a home.”

“By that you mean kids, too?” Sammy asked, staring so hard at the table that she thought she might burn a hole through it.

“Of course,” he answered her as though there were no other answer to give. Sammy felt her heart skip a beat. Zach had always said ‘later’ when she asked when they were going to have kids. “What’s a home without a handful of children driving you mad?”

Sammy couldn’t look up at him. It was killing her, knowing that the most perfect man wanted what she wanted… Zach had never expressed interest in children after they were married, and he knew how desperately she wanted them. Now there was a man here that desired the same things and she couldn’t have him… how fair was this?

“I don’t know how likely all of it is,” he said wistfully after a second, “but it is nice to envision a happy forever.”

Sammy couldn’t argue with that logic. Here she was with Tom, a man she was falling more deeply for every passing second and their time was short. They wouldn’t have that happy forever. Who was ever going to make her feel the way Tom did?

She swallowed past the depression forming in her throat and vowed not to delve too much more into it. It was distracting her and making her feel very sad. Before she had a chance to change the subject, he asked her, “What about you? What do you want?”

“Well, I want a lot of things. You’ll have to be more specific.” She didn’t want to tell him what was really on her mind, but she didn’t want to lie to him either.

“Why? Tell me everything.” He was so sweet and unassuming, giving her his wide grin.

“There’s so much, though,” she said, trying to make things not as awkward by running around the question. Unfortunately, Tom was eventually going to catch onto what she was doing and then call her out on it, so the sooner she just got it out, the better. “Ideally, I’d like to be writing.”

“Writing what? You have to be a bit more specific, Samantha, come on now,” he scolded her.

“Honestly, I’d prefer to be doing my own writing. Like, writing my own books and have that be my only job. I want to make a career out of my true passion,” she answered him. This was a subject she was comfortable with. She could go on for a while about writing, and was willing to continue sharing.

Until Tom asked, “And with this chosen career, writing your novels only, what would you do with all of your spare time? Would you have a family to watch after?”

Sammy felt her stomach churning so badly that she wanted to throw up. She didn’t want to tell him that she wanted a family desperately and no man was apparently going to be able to give her one. She fought it for as long as she could. “Ideally, I would like a family. I’d love kids and a husband, even after my disaster of a first marriage, but I just don’t think it’s going to happen.”

“Why not?” Tom asked quizzically.

“You have to ask me that?” Sammy snapped, not meaning to sound as harsh as she did.

Tom’s face fell as he stared at her. It seemed to dawn on him slowly, but eventually, his expression changed from genuinely puzzled to somewhat sad, and then to hurt. Sammy felt her frustration ebb quickly, replaced by her own sadness. She didn’t want him to be in any pain. It almost caused her physical pain to see this look on his face, but at the same time, she knew there was nothing she could do about it. This was the path they had chosen together. Now they had to deal with the fallout.

The rest of the dinner was quiet and somewhat tense, but Sammy didn’t know how to apologize for what she had said. It wasn’t like she could take it back, and she didn’t know that she wanted to. He had told her that they should be honest, and that’s what she was trying to do. She didn’t intend for the words to get away from her, but she couldn’t help it at the same time.

After they paid the check, they left the restaurant. The moment they stepped out into the warm San Diego evening, hearing the sounds of the street musicians and smelling the nearby ocean, it seemed to rejuvenate both of them. Tom took her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze, and asked her to lead them to their destination. They were already in the Gaslamp District, so their walk wouldn’t be long.

Within a block they were in the heart of the district, enjoying the sights and sounds of the historic setup. Sammy peered at Tom out of the corner of her eye to see how he was enjoying it. He seemed entranced by everything around him, and this made Sammy happy. It may have still been early on in this relationship, but she liked to think that she at least had a pretty good idea of what Tom would appreciate. This was definitely one of those things.

“This is beautiful,” he commented, letting go of her hand and snaking his hand around her waist to pull her closer. She wrapped her arm around him as well, taking him into her senses as she closed into him. She was a foot shorter than him, so her head usually rested against his chest quite nicely. She could feel his warmth, hear his heart beating, take in his delicious scent, and delve into him almost completely. It was all she wanted. He was all she wanted.

She eventually gave up the reins to him, allowing him to lead them around. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for exactly, but she didn’t mind. Just this time alone with him was a treasure, every single second to be cherished.

They would stop every so often to listen to a different set of musicians, and he would hold her as they watched and listened, kissing her head, rubbing her back, resting his cheek against her hair, and every other thing that made her feel so wanted.  
After a little more wandering around, Sammy was beginning to wonder what exactly they were looking for. They happened onto a street where a pair of performers, a male and a female, were playing acoustic guitars and singing a sweet folk song for a small group of onlookers. Tom and Sammy approached the circle quietly, listening to the end of the song. They clapped along with everyone else, staying as the rest of the crowd dissipated. As Sammy dug in her purse for yet another tip to hand out, Tom let go of her hand and stepped forward, greeting the two performers.

Sammy looked up to see what he was doing. At first, they recognized Tom and were very excited. He quickly and discreetly signed an autograph for them, and then looked over his shoulder at her, giving her a quick grin. She smiled back at him, still confused as to what he was doing. He turned slightly to the side, blocking her view of what was going on. A second or two later, she saw him shaking their hands and turning back around to face her. The expression on his beautiful face was now expectant and somewhat nervous as he took a step forward, extending his hand out to her.

She stared down at his long, graceful fingers and debated on what he was wordlessly requesting. He wanted her to dance with him, out here in public in front of these performers, two performers who knew full well who he was. She was nervous, less for the public dancing and more for the possible implications of his closely holding some strange woman and what it may do to his career.

“Please don’t make me beg,” he said after she stood there for too long. He stepped forward and grabbed her, startling her completely. He pulled her in close, wrapping one arm around her waist and taking her other hand in his.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked him quietly before the music began. “They know who you are, aren’t you afraid of what people will say?”

“Not in the least,” he whispered to her. “And you shouldn’t worry, either. This is real.”

And as he spoke the last words, the performers began the first chords of a song that Sammy recognized, and as it began, Tom started to lead her in a slow, close dance. Instead of fighting it, she simply gave in, setting her head against his chest and closing her eyes. He moved in ever closer, placing his head against hers intimately. It wasn’t until the words began that Sammy realized exactly what Tom had been up to a minute before. He had specifically chosen this song for them to dance to, and without warning, the tears began to seep slowly from her eyes.

“You know this song?” she asked him quietly.

“I heard it a couple of days ago on the radio and couldn’t believe how appropriate it was,” he explained, smiling down at her.

“I’m impressed, this is a beautiful song,” she complimented, closing her eyes again and enjoying every single chord.

The chorus began, every word plucking at another one of Sammy’s heartstrings. This was why Tom had been leading her all over the district, waiting for the right time, armed with the right song, seeking out the right pair, all to sing this song for her. It also explained why he hadn’t said anything about their conversation before. This was his response to their predicament. They were together now, and that was what mattered, because he felt just as deeply for her as she did for him.

Tom let go of her hand, and she looped it under his arm, burying her head into his chest even deeper, never wanting this to end. He took his hand and pushed it under her hair, cupping her neck, giving her shoulder a quick caress, and then running his fingers down the length of her back. It was such a gentle, loving gesture that it sent chills up her spine. Every word sung seemed to radiate between the two of them, and Sammy knew, instinctively, every thought that flowed through his head was the same as hers. It was a strange sensation that she couldn’t necessarily explain, but she knew she wasn’t wrong. The longer the song went on, the closer she felt to him.

And then, out of nowhere, something started to come to the surface of Sammy’s consciousness. The words, those dreaded words that should not come up with someone this quickly, especially after such a short time, sprang to her lips before she had the chance to think them through. She fought the urge to say anything. It was best to keep it at bay, no matter what they were feeling. She had no doubt he felt the same way.

Almost as though he were reading her thoughts, he moved his head from hers and placed his lips on her exposed shoulder, sending yet another chill through her body. He raised his head slightly, right in line with her ear, and whispered softly, “I wish you could be my forever.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, and looked up at him, meeting his gaze dead on. The intensity of those sparkling sea blue eyes were enough to make her breath catch, two more fresh tears dripping out of her eyes slowly. He was feeling so many things, longing, regret, desire, passion, and above all other things, the unspoken emotion she couldn’t even voice in her thoughts. It was right there at the forefront, burning brightly for her and her only. It was her look again, undeniably. His eyes were glassy as well, staring down at her.

Before the music ended, they expressed all of their unspoken emotions with just the lights of their eyes and embraced once more while they still had time. Because now that they were halfway through their journey, time was no longer on their side.


	9. Present Day

Present Day

I can’t think of anything to say to Zach. He has put my dreaded secret together all on his own and I am not going to sit here and pretend that it isn’t true. I let Tom’s name slip, I allowed myself to get too angry and forgetful, and now I am about to pay the price. The next person I wanted knowing about all of this was Tom, and I am making myself sick thinking of the implications of my rash actions.

He is still sitting here, stunned, trying to put the pieces together as though he needs to make absolute sure that what he said was the truth. I don’t know how to respond, so instead of making a scene that will cause anyone else to know my secret, I opt to sit down and contain the situation.

And then, I decide to play on his sympathies and plead with him. “Zach,” I say, leaning over and extending my hand to him. I’m not expecting him to take it, but I want him to see that I am reaching out, trying to get him to listen. His eyes are now dark and clouded, boring into me and waiting for my explanation.

“Zach, I am begging you,” I start, “if there was ever a time in our entire marriage when you loved me, even a little bit, you will keep this quiet.”

He frowns at me, as though understanding what I am asking, but confused as to why I need to ask it.

“Seriously… Whatever you’re figuring out in your head, you have to put the pieces away and keep it to yourself.”

“Your daughter… is Tom Hiddleston’s daughter?” he finally breathes, incredulous.

Fortunately, he has not announced this loudly, but I am so scared that someone will overhear that I feel my heart speed up, the panic of this moment starting to take over. “Yes, Zach. Do you understand why I need you to be quiet?”

Zach is still confused, and finally, full comprehension comes in, and his eyes widen in shock. “You haven’t told him?” This is the sentence where he chooses to raise his voice.

I am desperate for privacy, so instead of waiting for the check, I grab a couple of twenties out of my purse, throw them down on the table, and grab Zach, intending to haul him away and either smack him silly, or get him to listen to reason. I am still torn about what my course of action will be.

When we finally get outside the restaurant, I pull him around the corner of the building where we are ensured a little more privacy. I run my hands through my hair and try to find the right words to speak. Zach speaks first.

“I cannot believe you, Sammy. You are supposed to be the mature, responsible one here, making the right decisions. I would never suspect you as the type of person who has the capacity to keep a secret this huge from a man, any man, no matter what he does for a living,” he says, and as I look up at him, he is staring at me with the one thing that I am most surprised to see in his eyes; disappointment. “I really expected better from you.”

Zach is undeniably right, but I am not going to sit here and be lectured by a man that has not once, not twice, but many, many times in our relationship, lied, cheated, and betrayed me. “You’re one to talk about expecting better, Zach.”

“No,” he says sternly. “The time for my penance is over. We’ve been down this road, and while I may not have the right to tell you that I’m disappointed in you, someone has to say it.”

“And you don’t think Molly has, over and over, for the last five years?”

“Honestly, no,” Zach says, crossing his arms defiantly as he leans up against the building to stare me down. “If she had, you would have told him by now, and you would be living your cookie cutter dream somewhere in England or Hollywood or whatever.”

“Who ever said I wanted to go to England or Hollywood or whatever?” I spit at him, because now he is hitting me where it counts. This is not fair for him to assume that what Tom and I had was simple and unfettered, like I can just call him up out of the blue to come whisk me away whenever I want. The time we had together was precious, special, and temporary. We agreed on that from the beginning.

Didn’t we?

“I really just don’t think you have a right to say anything. It’s not like you have a dog in this fight,” I tell him after a beat of silence. I have to defend my decisions as a woman and a parent, and it really bothers me that of all people I am explaining to myself, it has to be Zach, probably one of the most selfish human beings I know.

“I may not have a dog in this fight, if it has to be a fight, but I am a man, so I probably have a good idea what he’s going to say, knowing that he hasn’t been a part of his kid’s life for five years,” Zach said, just as angrily.

I am seething at this point. I want to grab him, smack him across the face, and shake him hard for good measure, screaming at him that he has no idea what Tom will say. He is nothing like Tom, and hopes to be even half the man that Tom is.

I am struck dumb at this point. If Zach is half the man Tom is, and Zach is this angry just hearing about the possibility of a man not knowing about his child, I cannot even begin to imagine with Tom’s response is going to be when he finds out. This is when the real panic begins.

I start to sweat profusely, my hands shaking and my heart clattering in my chest so heavily that it feels like I’m about to pass out from the lack of oxygen getting to my brain. I can’t even think straight, aware of how crazy I must be acting right now. I most definitely look sick, because Zach is standing up from the wall and coming over to me, his hands outstretched. He is also saying something but my blood is pounding so heavily in my ears that I can’t really hear him.

And all at once, the sound starts to rush back. “You should sit down, you look pale,” I hear Zach telling me, hesitant to touch me.

“I’ll be fine. I just need to breathe,” I tell him, waving him away. The last thing I want right now is for Zach’s dirty, philandering hands to be anywhere near me.

Especially when I know on such a visceral, real level, that he is right.

“Are you all right?” Zach asks after a few minutes have passed.

I have calmed considerably, but the reality of what has hit me is still frightening. I want to run away and hide, wishing desperately that five years ago I had possessed the courage to make a different call. There’s always a way to get in touch with someone, even someone as unreachable as Tom Hiddleston. There had to have been a way…

But I cannot think this way. Thinking this way is counterproductive, because I have made my bed and now I have to lie in it. I cannot blame anyone else for my decisions or try and will myself into the past to change them. I’ll go crazy long before I have the ability to do any of that.

“I’m okay now,” I say, which is only the partial truth. I don’t care what Zach knows. He’s the one that has made me feel all of this all at once, when I was just fine on my own taking it in small doses. “My daughter should be here any minute, I really need to go meet Molly.”

I am fully intending to turn right then and just leave Zach behind the restaurant with a second thought, but he has reconsidered his desire to touch me, and grabs my wrist before I can go anywhere. I stop, glaring up at him, my eyes burning hot as they blaze into his. I don’t want to be here another second with him. The truth is, Zach isn’t really the problem, but he is so much of a personification of every fear I’ve been stomping out of my consciousness for five years that I’d rather he be a distant memory. He’s not my favorite person to begin with.

Now he’s stopping me from leaving, and I really don’t have time to waste with him right now. My daughter is sick and Molly is busy, so I need to be where I need to be. I wouldn’t expect my ex-husband to understand this kind of an obligation.

“You have to let go of me,” I tell him, my words icy. “I have to pick up my daughter.”

“I need you to understand,” he pleads with me.

“No, Zach, I understand completely,” I say, yanking my wrist out of his tight grasp. “You think it’s okay to judge me for the hard decisions I’ve had to make in my life, even though you may not agree with them. How many hard decisions have you actually had to make in your life? You chose to take the easy way out with our marriage, forcing me to make the tough call like the coward you are. How dare you judge me when you haven’t walked a mile in my shoes?”

Zach’s eyes cloud with anger, but I know I am getting through to him. He is not a completely unreasonable person. He’s a liar, a cheater, and a coward, but he also has the capacity for immense understanding. It is the one thing I do miss about him, and have, for a long time.

Before I feel I have completely swayed him though, he shakes his head at me and takes a step back. “I may not know what it’s like to make the tough calls, Sammy, you’re right,” he concedes, shoving his hands in his pockets now. His eyes meet mine, and again, I see the tepid pools of disappointment that I am so accustomed to. “But I also know that you are smarter and much more caring than I am, and you always have been. I would think that if Tom really is the love of your life that you would want him to be a part of something like this. I know I would.”

It is then that I rethink the expression I see in his eyes. I have mistaken that disappointment for what appears to be longing and regret…

Unfortunately, I cannot respond, because right then I see Molly driving up, honking her horn and waving at me. She has spotted me and I have no choice but to turn away and go retrieve my sick baby. Zach has to wait.

“I have to go,” I whisper to him, feeling bad that we can’t finish this, but anxious to beat a hasty retreat.

“Here,” he says quickly, grabbing a pen and my hand almost simultaneously. He scribbles a number on my hand and gives it back to me. “I’d like to see you again.”

I smile at him then, completely struck by the man I was once so enamored of. I see the arrogance of a high school football star, the lopsided smirk of a charming womanizer, the build and bearing of someone who felt as though they would be on top of the world forever… Oh how the mighty fall. I come back to myself and see the sad, broken man in front of me. It’s unfair for me to storm away from him, no matter how angry he has made me. I know that being a mother has really softened me. If this had been any time in the year following our divorce, I would have spit at his feet and walked away without looking back.

I am okay with who I am now.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get Emma home and feeling all right. Is that okay?” I tell him. I have no idea how long he’s going to be in town, so I really can’t dawdle if I’m going to get in contact with him again.

“I would really like that,” he tells me, giving me his most sincere smile. Against all odds and the fact that I am desperately in love with another man that I can’t have, this crooked smirk makes my knees weak. Somewhere, deep down inside me, I am still that high school geek that is infatuated with the senior football star.

“I really have to go, Zach,” I say, and before he can say anything else, or god forbid, reach out to try and hug me or something equally awkward, I turn and practically run to Molly’s waiting Impala.

 

“Mommy I still don’t feel good,” Emma says as I tuck her in tightly.

“I know, baby,” I whisper soothingly, brushing her matted curls out of her face. She still feels warm, but she is sweating as well, which means her fever is breaking. We have gotten through the worst of it. I made sure to call her pediatrician and set up an appointment for the next day, just to make sure she doesn’t have some kind of underlying illness that could make matters worse. I sincerely doubt that there is anything more going on, but I have to check for my peace of mind.

Tonight, she gets the full spoiling treatment because she’s sick. She gets to sleep in Mommy’s queen size bed, wrapped up in her favorite purple microfiber throw, a Disney movie on the TV (TV at bedtime is an extremely rare occurrence), and a belly full of Mommy’s homemade popsicles (I freeze organic orange juice and call it a treat so she’ll be more likely to eat it). She has her Finding Nemo pajamas on, as well as her stuffed bright orange clownfish with her (it’s not Nemo, but it was close enough).

My heart swells as I stare down at her, so sad to see her so sick. She is nowhere near as sick as she has been in the past, but she is achy, tired, and cranky, so I feel for her. I feel horrible when she gets a small splinter. It’s not really a sliding scale when you have a child. Your heart breaks no matter what happens to them. They are a piece of you and whatever affects them affects you a hundred times over.

“Can I have another popsicle?”

“First of all, you always say please,” I tell her, and before she has a chance to squeak it out at me, I finish, “and second of all, no, it’s bedtime.”

She whines a little and I frown deeply. “What have I said about whining, young lady?” She says nothing to this, but instead moves her head to look away from me, defeated. I won’t have her acting like this. I know she is sick, but she is not going to be whiny with me after I just busted my ass trying to spoil and take care of her.

“I don’t think so,” I say, and lean down and tickle her neck with one finger. A huge grin spreads across her face as she responds to my light touch, and within a few seconds, I’ve got her giggling like crazy. I try not to take it too far, like I really want to. I enjoy when she starts laughing from her belly, it makes me laugh and want to wrap her up in my arms and kiss her all over. She’s not feeling great, though, so I’m not going to get her wound up.

“I love you, baby,” I say when our bout together subsides. I lean down and give her kisses on her warm cheeks.

“I love you, Mommy,” she responds, wrapping her tiny arms around my neck and pulling me in close. She kisses me on the cheek and rolls back over to watch her movie.

“I’ll come back in soon, okay, sweetheart?” I say to her, stroking her hair off of her damp forehead as her eyelids start to grow heavy. By the time I am officially out of the room, she’ll be out. I want to make sure she is comfortable before I go.

I am also trying desperately to avoid having to make the phone call to Zach. It sounds horrible, because I promised him I would give him a call and that we could talk about everything, but I just don’t want to get back into it. To be honest, since I heard that Tom was making his way into Michigan soon, I’ve been on edge. At any moment in the near future, he’s going to show up and change everything about how I’ve been living my life. Even if he doesn’t seek me out, I will eventually have to find him. Molly is right. It needs to be done.

Tom deserves that much.

I see Emma’s eyes start to drift closed and I take the opportunity to sneak away. It is rare that I can get her to sleep so easily. Four year olds have an unstoppable energy that they may eventually burn through, but are constantly unwilling to relent. I sometimes have a hard time making her stop what she’s doing to go to the bathroom. She gets so invested in what she’s doing that two minutes of her time is just too precious to waste. This is incredibly frustrating considering the fact that she has so recently learned how to go completely alone.

Once I am in the living room, I take a deep breath. It has been an incredibly long day, a long week in fact, and I can’t see any of the days I have ahead of me getting any better.

I grab my cell phone off of the dining room table and shuffle to the living room, where I situate myself on the couch, grabbing another throw blanket and tossing it over my chilled toes. I start flipping the phone in my hands, so many different thoughts plaguing my head that I feel like my skull might explode.

There’s no doubt that my life has been full of trying times, but whose hasn’t? In my short life, I’ve had my fair share. I’ve been married and divorced (after moving two thousand miles away from my life, I might add), I’ve buried both of my parents in the same year, met and fell in love with my true, absolute soul mate only to lose that person a few days later, I’ve dealt with pregnancy and subsequent motherhood all alone, and I had allowed myself to balance out and felt that things were finally starting to even out. I really believed that my overall stress was coming to a close.

That’s the thing about plans, though, isn’t it? I can’t argue with my comeuppance, to be honest. I should have told Tom so many years ago, but what’s done is done. I can only go on with my life and figure out what to do next.

I need to call Zach before I forget or completely lose my will to do so. I told him I’d call, and if nothing else, I am a woman of my word. I click my phone on, slide the bar on the touch screen to unlock it, and hit the ‘send’ button. I knew my hands were going to get washed when I got home so I made sure to store Zach’s number before I did anything else.

It rang two times before I heard Zach’s voice on the other end. I took a deep breath and greeted him. “How is your daughter?” was the first thing he asked.

I smile, thinking it is very nice of him to remember she is feeling ill. “She’s sleeping, and doing all right for now. Her fever’s starting to break, not to mention the fact that she’s been spoiled rotten tonight.”

Zach chuckles. “I miss the days when I would get that kind of attention when I was sick.” He sighs heavily. “Why do kids ever want to grow up?”

“That, sir, is the question du jour,” I respond, kicking me feet out and readjusting the blanket. I cross my arms in front of me. “She usually doesn’t get to watch much TV, so she’s having a pretty good night, all things considered. I like her to be more involved in her world and learn versus shoving her at an external stimulus that’s just going to shut her up and dumb her down.”

“Wow,” he says with a laugh. I feel almost as though I need to defend myself when I realize he doesn’t sound sarcastic at all.

“What?” I venture.

“It’s impressive, that’s all,” he tells me. “I know a lot of people with kids that are just happy to put on a movie to get a little peace and quiet. I know it can’t be easy,” he says, and I hear that he is genuine in his compliment.

I can’t help but beam with pride. If nothing else, all the terrible decisions I have made in my life when it comes to love, I am at least good at being someone’s mommy. “Thank you very much, it is hard, but I think in the long run it is worth it.”

Zach doesn’t say anything for a second in response. He sighs, finally, and says, “I always knew you would be a good mom, Sam.”

My heart skips a beat. This from the man who was never really ready for kids, who kept saying we would do it ‘later,’ a date I was sure after a period of time would just never come. I frown a little bit, unable then to control my hurt. “If you always knew that, then why didn’t you want kids with me?”

He sighs again, this time in annoyance. “Can we not do this, Sammy?”

“Why not? Isn’t that why you wanted me to call you? So you could yell at me more about my decisions in life? If that’s what we’re doing, I don’t see why I can’t get a few jibes in, too, especially when you say something like that,” I say, and my blood is pumping, flushing my face. I never really took the time to realize that I was holding onto a lot of anger still toward my ex-husband. If I was going to get it off of my chest, it was now or never. “You knew how important it was to me to have kids. I must have told you a hundred times before we got married, and then a thousand times afterward.”

“Sam, I really don’t want to do this,” he says, exasperated. “You and I could sit on the phone for hours hashing out what could have been. I screwed up, I wasn’t a good husband, a good man, I’m a coward, blah, blah, blah, all of that. What else do you want me to say? You know I’m sorry.”

He’s right. A tiny voice in my brain is telling me that right now, and I know I have to just shake it off because holding onto this anger is weighing me down. He has apologized and I know he’s sincere. He knows how it feels now to be betrayed and let down by someone you thought was trustworthy. I can’t begrudge him that pain, having felt it so acutely.

“All right, Zach, I’m sorry…” I relent, running my hand through my hair and squeezing my eyes shut. “I guess seeing you kind of triggered all of this residual anger inside of me, stuff I haven’t dealt with since our divorce.”

“I understand,” he says, and I believe it. “I had a feeling that would happen when you saw me, or even read my email. I was really scared to reach out to you at all, but I knew it was the right thing to do.”

“And to be honest, Zach,” I say, touched that he has confessed so much to me already, “if I hadn’t had Emma and been a mom for the past four years, it’s entirely possible that I would be a lot less forgiving. So I guess everything has happened for a reason.” As I say this, I feel the spirit of my mother go through me and it is like I am suddenly at peace, or at least nearing it.

“Well, for that I’m glad, but I have to tell you, honestly,” Zach begins, and I hear him take a deep breath as though he is gearing up for what he has to tell me next, “the thought of you having some other guy’s kid just really bothers me, deep down.”

“Why?” I ask, snottier than I intend. I am finally coming to a point where I want to forgive Zach completely and absolve myself of this anger, but he has to go and ruin it by saying something stupid.

“Because at one point, I was supposed to be that guy.”

I close my eyes and lean back against the couch. Five years ago, this man didn’t even want me, and all of a sudden he’s talking about how he regrets not having a baby with me. What the hell has happened in the last week of my life that this is even real?

And what do I say to this? He already knows it was his fault that our marriage didn’t continue and I’m not going to rub it in his face by saying ‘I told you so.’ I also can’t be sorry that it happened, because then I wouldn’t have bought myself tickets to get away to Comic-Con, I wouldn’t have bumped into the sexy Brit that would turn my entire world upside down and give me the most precious gift a woman could ever receive. I can’t regret any of the decisions that have brought me to this spot.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispers finally. “I just thought it was better for me to be honest with you about it.”

“I appreciate it,” I say, relaxing a little. “It’s all I ever really wanted from you.”

“I know,” he says. We are quiet for a stretch of time, but finally, Zach speaks up and it is the conversation I don’t want to have with him. “So tell me what is keeping you from telling this Tom about your kid?”

“First of all, the ‘kid’ is Emma,” I say, rolling my eyes, “and second of all, I had my reasons, Zach. It’s not like I did this to hurt anyone.” I don’t say it out loud, but there’s no way in hell I could ever hurt Tom or see that look in his eyes on purpose. I’d do anything I could to avoid it, given the situation were different. Zach is already having a hard enough time accepting the fact that anyone else had the ability to win me over other than him, I really don’t feel it necessary to remind him.

“That may be true, Sam, and I know you had your reasons, but that doesn’t explain why it’s been four years and you still haven’t told him. I just think it’s stupid.”

I feel defensive immediately. I want to protect my daughter, which is what comes first and foremost. Sure, protecting Tom is important to me, but at this point, I feel as though the first thing that’s going to happen is my daughter’s face is going to be plastered all over the front of the tabloids. My child doesn’t need that stress or notoriety. It angers me, irrationally, that Zach is not a parent and can’t appreciate this part of it. He probably just thinks I’m protecting myself.

“You do realize who gets hurt first if this goes public, right?” I say, trying to keep the sarcasm from my voice.

“I understand you’re looking out for your kid – Emma,” he corrects. “But I just… I don’t know, Sam, the one thing I could always expect from you was the right thing.”

It hits me then that there is no way I am ever going to be completely relieved of ill feelings toward Zach. The sad truth is I have outgrown him so much that he is always going to infuriate me. I was more mature than him in high school, but it wasn’t enough to make a difference. Now, the difference between us is glaring and I find myself wanting to violently hang up on him, if nothing more. After all, I am a pacifist. “What the hell do you expect from me, and why should I care?”

“Dammit, Sammy, listen to me! You’re better than this. You know this guy, famous or not, it doesn’t really matter, he deserves to know he’s got a kid out there. You don’t think he wants to be in her life? You’ve cheated him out of four years. Do you have any idea how pissed off he’s going to be?”

I find myself struggling to keep a lid on things. I am beyond furious, most because Zach has unintentionally given voice to every single one of my greatest fears about this entire situation and I do not feel ready to deal with it.

What is Tom going to say? I am so scared to even think about it. I know he’s going to be hurt and betrayed, angry, furious, and any variation of those feelings. What’s terrible is that Tom is probably one of the sweetest, most optimistic people I have ever met, and I am about to pull the rug out from under him. Any hope of us rekindling what we had before is probably out the window once he learns the truth. I have no delusions about that even being an option at this point, which saddens me to the very deepest reaches of my heart.

The thing is, I don’t even think that would be an option anyway. I am settled and comfortable here in Michigan. I do not want to give that up, pull my child out of school and away from her life (the only one she’s ever known), and pull up stakes just to run off and be the arm candy for a gorgeous movie star whenever he’s not jetting off somewhere for months at a time. With a child, things are so much more complicated. Maybe if circumstances were different and Tom had come for me sooner, without the child we had created, I would have reconsidered this decision.

I come back to myself and remember that Zach is on the other end of the phone. I am inexplicably upset with him. This is the second time today he has me questioning my world, and even though it’s not necessarily his fault, he’s the only one I have to blame everything on.

“Zach, you just don’t understand, and I don’t expect you to ever understand how grownups make grownup decisions.” I am so aware that I am being unfair right now, but I do not care.

“You can try that crap on me all night if you want, Sam, but you forgave me, and the truth is, you’re wrong and you have been for years.”

“What? How dare you!”

“How dare I? How dare you let yourself get knocked up by the guy you say is the love of your life, and then turn around and hide it from him like some dirty little secret. The Sammy I remember – ”

“The Sammy you remember died the day you screwed some other chick in her bed and didn’t even have the decency to act ashamed!” I yell at him. “The girl you used to know, the walking doormat that was there for you no matter how shitty you were as a husband is long gone. Tom loved me, completely and unconditionally. If I chose to protect his career and my child’s innocence by not telling the truth, so be it. The decisions I made were the best ones I knew how to make at the time, so don’t tell me I didn’t do something right. Who the hell knows what you consider right anymore?”

“I definitely don’t think you’re right.”

“Well I guess that’s too damned bad, because for a second there, you tricked me into thinking you had changed, Zach. It was nice seeing you, but I can’t sit here and try to defend myself. I hope you have a good life.” And despite his last second protests, I hang up my cell phone and dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to keep the brimming tears from pouring down my cheeks. It is futile, though, because it is a long time coming.

The sobs come, most unexpectedly, and I curl into a ball underneath my small throw blanket. I want them to stop, but I know that it’s useless to wish for this. It’s useless to wish for much right now. I feel like the worst person in the world, despite the legitimate reasons I have always stuck to. I don’t want to defend myself anymore, but I realize with an overwhelming finality that Zach was just the opening act.

Telling Tom is the main event, and I expect much more soul crushing devastation when everyone figures out that I have been lying for five years. Tom’s reaction is not the only one I have in my head. I wonder what Emma will say when she finds out that she has a daddy. The questions will pour on and I can’t imagine which memories she’s going to keep with her into adolescence. Am I screwing her up for good? Is she going to keep all of this in her soul, angry at me for years and years without ever really knowing the root cause?

All of my reassurances that I am a good mother are now gone. I have been stripped of everything in a matter of ten minutes, and I am bare, just as bare as I was five years ago when Tom found me in need of his rescue in a bar in San Diego. I want to scream, cry, and go numb.

And then I hear Emma crying out for me and I realize that life has to go on, no matter how utterly hollow I feel on the inside. My heart cannot possibly break anymore.


	10. Five Years Ago: Day Four

Day Four

The next morning, Sammy woke up to find that Tom was still in bed dozing next to her. Their fingers were linked from how they had fallen asleep the night before. Sammy smiled happily. The night before had been so precious to her that it was hard to wake up and face the next morning.

She couldn’t let herself think about the fact that this was their fourth day together of seven. If she thought too hard about it, she’d spend the day depressed. There was no time for that. It was the advantage of having a short time.

There was also one shared advantage and disadvantage to their short time together. Sammy had not fully decided what to classify it as quite yet. This courtship was so sped up that Sammy realized they were hitting all of the relationship milestones fairly quickly without the payoff of the ‘death til us part’ aspect. She knew it was only a matter of time until she was really feeling the need to say those three little words, but for now, it was best to keep it quiet. Things were so rushed that she felt overwhelmed with the intensity of their feelings. Then again, it seemed appropriate and she couldn’t really deny that anything she was feeling was too fast or too deep. It all just felt so right.

Tom woke a few minutes later and they held each other for a while before finally jumping out of bed and heading out for the day. They had decided on a simple, relaxing day at the beach. They were going to grab some breakfast at the hotel restaurant and then pack a lunch to take out with them. It was one of those days Sammy knew she’d always remember as picture perfect.

Sammy absolutely loved that Tom appreciated everything they did. He loved to sight see and experience things, but he also enjoyed lying back and relaxing, taking the day as it came. There was probably nothing he wouldn’t try at least once. She didn’t feel nearly as adventurous and he had actually promised to attempt to teach her how to play tennis that day as well. The idea had a certain appeal since there was something so damned sexy about a man that knew what he was talking about, no matter the subject. She wasn’t very athletic but she’d do it just for the opportunity to have him hold her close.

Not too long after they were up, they were ready to head down to the restaurant. They met the same resistance in the hotel lobby as usual. Even though it was Wednesday, three days after Comic-Con had officially ended, there were still occasional stragglers and people that recognized Tom anyway. He was still donning the dark, slightly shaggier look that was indicative of his role as Loki. Sammy thought it was adorable how his blond-red roots were showing through the black of his dyed locks. She wondered how he would look with his natural curly red hair that he liked to keep closely cropped. He had tried to stay clean shaven for the duration of the weekend, but to her delight, his shaving regimen had relaxed in her company. He confessed that he hated the patchiness of it when it started to really grow in, but she didn’t mind. It was the innate rugged maleness of being able to grow facial hair that she found so damned appealing.

He had done his best to trim it up today, and she stood back while he took pictures and signed autographs quickly, smiling at him. She hadn’t met any other celebrities but she couldn’t imagine any of them being nearly as decent and sincere as Tom. He actually wanted to make sure his fans knew he cared about them and that he would give them a couple minutes of his time, regardless of how busy he was.

They breezed through breakfast quickly, both anxious to get out and start their day together. They talked about what they wanted to do and the whole time Sammy could sense that there was more not being said. The dance they had shared on the street the night before had been so close and intimate, things said and feelings shared that couldn’t be denied, that it felt almost downright awkward to not mention any of it the next day. Sammy wasn’t going to push it. She knew if something needed to be discussed, it would be.

Once they left for the beach, Sammy felt herself relax for the first time all day. She opted to drive them to the beach, enjoying the chance to get behind the wheel of her car again. It had been almost five days since she’d driven anywhere. It felt nice to resume that much control over something for a moment, considering how all over the place she really felt inside.

It didn’t take them long to get to the beach that early in the morning on a weekday, and for that, Sammy was thankful. She told Tom she didn’t want him to see her more colorful side when she had to experience southern California traffic. He only laughed at her as he leaned back in her passenger seat, and embarrassed, admitted he wasn’t much better himself.

Once they parked, they ventured out together so that Sammy had the chance to show Tom the Pacific Ocean up close and personal.

Tom walked over to her and took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers slightly as he leaned over and planted a kiss on top of her head. “You’re so small and adorable,” he commented, a large, playful grin on his face.

She glared up at him, replying, “Smurfs are small and adorable!” 

“And blue,” he said, “and you, my dear, are not blue.”

“So that means I am a Smurf… or…?” she asked, confused.

“You may not be a Smurf, but you’re definitely small and adorable,” he said, giving her a little nudge.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not that small.”

“You’re so tiny I want to stick you right in my pocket,” he laughed and kissed the side of her head again.

Sammy stopped dead in her tracks, just before they reached the sand and turned to face him, her hands on her hips. He was, indeed, a whole foot taller than her, but that hadn’t seemed to pose much of an issue so far. She looked him up and down and noticed all the advantages to their height difference. When he held her, her head fit perfectly in the space against his chest right under his arm so that she was always protected. She could hear his heartbeat every time they embraced. Whenever he wanted an intense, passionate kiss, he would wrap his arms around her waist and lift her against him, where she would loop her arms around his neck and hang on tightly.

“Listen here, mister ‘so tiny I can put you in my pocket,’ I will not – HEY!” Sammy was abruptly cut off when Tom stepped closer, and in one fell swoop, picked her up and brought her close.

“I’ll put you anywhere,” he told her, his voice hoarse and sexy as he guided her down to his lips, passionately taking her in. Sammy knew he was being more brazen because there were so few people around, but regardless, she felt a little exposed.

They broke the kiss apart and she snaked her arms around his neck and held him close. “Are you sure you’re completely comfortable throwing me in the air for all the world to see?”

He frowned at her then, genuinely puzzled at the question she had just posed. “What are you talking about? Why do I care what anyone else thinks?”

“Well, I thought you were uncomfortable with public displays of affection,” she explained to him, surprised he had even asked the question in the first place.

Comprehension seemed to settle into the lights of his eyes as he set her back down on the ground, his arms still around her waist, their bodies so close that no light could pass between them. “Don’t misunderstand,” he said gently, as though easing her into an explanation she probably didn’t fully grasp. “I have my reasons for it, but it has nothing to do with you,” he paused, “well, I shouldn’t quite say that…” Sammy was frowning so deeply that he chuckled a bit, trying to find the right words. “Let me explain. I think, overall, that it’s quite rude to go around and act as though we’re always incapable of keeping our hands to ourselves. It makes me uncomfortable when I see others behaving that way in public, so I try not to do it myself. Also, those kinds of gestures are ours, for our own private enjoyment, and I don’t want anyone else sharing in it. It has nothing to do with me not wanting to be seen with you, if that was what you thought. I hope you understand,” he said, his eyes wide and pleading, his eyebrows raised as he waited for her response.

Sammy’s heart skipped a beat when she saw this look in his eyes. It was next to impossible to deny him anything with that look on his face and she really didn’t want to. What he said did make sense and she found it incredibly romantic that he wanted their intimate moments to be just that, theirs. She felt her expression soften and she tried hard not to let her weak knees bring her to the ground. She held his arms, digging her fingers in tight so she wouldn’t fall from his grasp. “Really?”

He leaned his forehead down and pressed it against hers. “If I could, Samantha, I’d tell everyone in the whole world just how happy I am when I’m with you,” he shifted his head down until they were cheek to cheek. Sammy’s eyes closed blissfully against the contact, the butterflies in her stomach flapping crazily. “I’d write it in the sky, shout it from the rooftops, all the old clichés,” she laughed out loud at this, and she could feel him smile again. “And why would I want to share you with anyone else?”

She lifted her head to look him in the eye, searching for any hint that he may be exaggerating, but she knew she wouldn’t find it. She smiled appreciatively, feeling her heart swell with all the emotions that she just couldn’t bring voice to yet. For a moment, she saw Tom’s face change, his eyes blazing again with that virile intensity that she knew only meant one thing; he was struggling just as hard against the words as she was.

They weren’t ready to say them, but she knew now that they were both feeling them. Instead of saying anything, she leaned in and kissed him, showing him that she understood what he was saying and couldn’t imagine sharing him with anyone else, either. She knew that she conveyed their unspoken truths, everything they just couldn’t say, and maybe never would. It hurt them both. She could tell by the way he let go of her waist and cupped both of her cheeks in his hands, bringing her closer and with slightly more intensity than she realized he had to give. It was almost as though he was in physical pain, letting the words percolate just under the surface without being able to speak them aloud.

Sammy had to do something to brighten the mood and get their minds off of this pain they were both feeling. They broke their kiss and before she could get lost in Tom’s blue eyes and wrapped up in what they were thinking, she broke away from him, collected her shoes, and ran out toward the beach. It had been so long since she’d felt the warm California sand between her toes, and right now she needed the fresh splash of the salty water to revive her senses.

She heard Tom chuckling behind her, and as she raced up to the tide, she knew she was going to instantly feel better. She closed her eyes and let the mild sea breeze cross her face, delicately blowing strands of hair back as she let the rush of the water run over her bare feet, chilling her at first and then eventually becoming comfortable. She noticed after a few minutes that it was taking Tom an awfully long time to make it out there with her, so she opened her eyes and turned to peer over her shoulder and see what was taking him so long.

He was finally jogging up to her, his feet now bare as well. He had opted today for a simple pair of jeans and a casual cornflower t-shirt, a color that looked amazing on him because it made the blue in his eyes really vibrant. She so rarely saw him so dressed down, but he had deemed it entirely appropriate for a day at the beach. Regardless, he was always dapper. It helped that he looked good doing it.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were coming out here,” she whispered to him as he stepped closer to her, his hands in his pockets as he took the ocean in. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back just as she had done a moment before, breathing the air in deeply, experiencing everything on a spiritual level. She knew that’s what he was doing because she did it all the time and could feel it sweeping over him.

She had never had a connection this strong to another human being, romantic or otherwise, and for a moment, it scared Sammy in such a real way that her vision went slightly hazy. It was as though she was zapped out of reality momentarily, the crushing weight of what was happening really pressing down on her.

She didn’t get too lost in her thoughts before Tom was taking her by the hand and wrapping her in for another warm embrace. She came to and held him, resting her head in that perfect spot made for her under the protection of Tom’s arm. He rubbed her back as they held one another. There was something so amazing about Tom’s hugs, like he was able to express his every want and desire as he held on. Sammy never ceased to feel beautiful and amazing, almost as though Tom had always been searching for her and never wanted to let her go.

It was moments like these that she wanted to make sure she remembered forever. She always wanted to remember what it felt like to be in Tom’s arms. If that was something she lost, she would be crushed.

They stood this way for a while until she felt Tom’s breath catch underneath her. Right away he let her go and backed up slightly, but she didn’t mind. She knew without having to look that he was pulling away from her because the emotion was catching up to him and he didn’t want to express it all over her. He needed some breathing room.

She understood completely.

Trying not to stand around too long before things became really awkward between them again, Sammy turned back toward the horizon and took a few steps further into the tide. She loved the feel of the foaming waves beneath her feet. It was almost as though she could feel the full extent of the journey this water had traveled to get here, right where she stood. It all made so much sense when she enveloped herself in the surf. Things started to make sense.

Tom followed her out into the water, bending over to let it rush through his long fingers. She smiled to herself as she watched him take it all in. This felt as though it would be a once in a lifetime experience, the way she felt with him right here, right now, her feet in the ocean, her heart on her sleeve.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tom came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her on the neck. “Would you like to join me over on the blanket?”

“Blanket?” Sammy said, confused. She turned around and peered back at the beach and there was, indeed, a blanket laid out on the sand, topped with the lunch they’d brought, a couple of towels, and Tom’s discarded shoes. “Where did all of that come from?”

“I picked it up this morning in the gift shop,” he answered her. “I wanted to really surprise you.”

“So you were awake before me today,” she said, rolling her eyes as she leaned her head back against him.

He planted a kiss on her head quickly, “Only for a moment,” he said, chuckling quietly to himself. “I had a feeling you wanted to wake up next to me, so I made sure to pop out before you even noticed.”

Sammy sighed. “As much as I hate that you didn’t tell me, I really appreciate the surprise,” she turned in his arms, staring up at him, blinking against the brightness of the sun. “I’d love to go lie back with you,” she said.

Tom sighed as he gazed down into her dark chocolate eyes and she loved every minute of this, her time with him was so incredibly precious. He leaned forward, kissing her sweetly, bringing her in close. She dug her fingers into the thin fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as tightly as possible for the time that they were actually together. He took the opportunity to bend his knees, wrap his arms around her waist, and lift her into the air. She threw her arms around his neck, breaking their kiss as he swung her around in the water. Sammy threw her head back and laughed, loving every single second of this. Tom was so many things and everything all at the same time to her. She could see herself spending every single second of her life this happy.

Tom set her down before Sammy allowed that previous thought to sink in. He took her hand and led her to the beach, where they settled onto the blanket awkwardly so as to avoid bringing too much loose sand with them. Once Sammy was satisfied that the blanket was comfortable and clean, she tossed her shoes next to Tom’s and watched as he stretched his full length out on the blanket next to her, propping his hands up under his head as he stared into the sky.

“This is a beautiful view,” he commented after a moment. “You should come join me.”

Sammy playfully rolled her eyes at him but situated herself next to him anyway. She rested her head close to his and stared up into the same sky he was. He moved one of his arms out from under his head and reached down to take her hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze as they lay there for a few more minutes in an amiable silence.

“It’s like our own little piece of heaven,” he whispered to her. “You and me, here, at the perfect moment, together… It’s like nothing really ever mattered until this moment in time, when we’ve found each other.”

Sammy was once again struck by how profound Tom’s mind truly was. He could joke and tease and converse with rapier sharp wit, but he also had that way of speaking and observing the world at times that made him seem like such a truly old soul. The more she got to know about this man the more she did believe in things like past lives and soul mates. How else would that explain someone so wise and intuitive at only thirty-one?

“If you think about it,” she whispered back, “the odds really are against two people who are meant to be together ever actually finding each other.” She turned and stared at his profile for a moment before he turned onto his side and faced her. She adored the intense gaze he gave her that somehow made his beautiful, expressive eyes bluer than the ocean. “I mean, statistically there are so many people in the world, and if you do truly believe in a series of lives lived with other souls on the earth, then there’s no telling where even a fraction of those souls ended up. The fact that two of them can meet up in this plane of existence and share something even half has remarkable as what we have is a miracle all in itself.”

“You are a miracle,” he responded, rolling over to grab her and pull her on top of him. She could sense the urgency right then, the need they were suddenly having for one another. It was the way they felt every time they thought too deeply about their short time and wanted to express all they felt in the only way they could. There was no way they could do this out in public. If Tom had an issue with kissing too deeply in front of others, how were they going to satiate their hunger for one another out here on a public beach?

They had to figure it out quick because every time Tom’s tongue danced against her lips and his hands roamed a little too close to some of her more sensitive areas. If he continued this, she would start stripping him down right here on this blanket without having a second thought as to who may or may not be watching.

“Tom,” she moaned against his mouth.

“What is it, love?” he said, barely a beat missed as he devoured her once again.

“Shouldn’t we find somewhere a little more…” she paused as she gave in to a groan as his lips traveled down her throat, gently kissing the best areas of her neck. “Shouldn’t we go somewhere private before we start anything? We’re right out in the open!”

He mumbled something against her skin in response, his breath tickling her and sending shivers down her spine. She was about to make the decision for him, but before she could start ripping his clothes off, he finally rolled her back over. He grabbed her up quickly and threw her over his shoulder. She squealed in response, hanging on for dear life as he started running clumsily up the sand and off of the beach.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded breathlessly. All she could see was the receding shoreline behind them as he ran with her slung over his shoulder.

“To the car park!” he told her, sounding a bit breathless as well. She couldn’t imagine that the hike through the sand with her added weight was an easy jaunt.

She didn’t have a chance to respond to this, as they had arrived back at her car and he set her back down on the ground and reached into his pocket for her keys. He hit the unlock button the clicker and playfully pushed her toward the backseat.

“Hold on, I have to make this comfortable,” she told him, bent over the seat.

“You’re doing that on purpose aren’t you?” he asked, his voice sounding strained as he waited outside the car for her.

She was, indeed, wiggling her rear end at him on purpose and she giggled at the struggle he was currently going through. While she put the backseat down and rearranged some of the things in the hatchback so they wouldn’t be too uncomfortable, she felt him come up behind her, finally unable to contain himself any longer. He was rubbing her hips, letting his fingers roam all over her before she finally turned toward him, scooting backward in the seat and allowing him into the car.

Tom squeezed in, laughing. “A bit compact,” he commented, but pulled her to him quickly, lying down on his back, “but it’ll do the trick.”

“Damn right,” she whispered, and with that, all talking ended. He reached up and pulled her head down with a ferocity she recognized. They kissed passionately for only a few seconds before things started moving forward quickly. They were both aware of how exposed they still were in the car, so they tried to be careful about being too obvious in the windows. She wished she could strip him bare, see him in all his beautiful naked glory, but it wasn’t possible. Instead, they made due with the limited space and time they had, Tom awkwardly fishing into his wallet for protection as Sammy distracted him elsewhere. She kissed her way down his long, unshaven neck which caused him to dig his fingers into her back and squeeze her tightly. She let her fingers wander down to his pants, grazing his firm maleness and eliciting a sharp gasp of agony from his perfect lips.

She quickly unfastened his pants and without much further ado reached right in and grabbed his full length firmly in her hand. This time, Tom let out a moan so full of ecstasy that Sammy was ready to take him in.

“On with it, you temptress,” he seethed through clenched teeth and a pair of light blue eyes smoldering with desire.

She licked her lips sensuously and bent over, gripping him a little firmer. “Are you sure you’re ready for me?”

“Samantha, I’m about to rip your fucking clothes off,” he threatened, his voice so husky with his sexual frustration that Sam had to throw her head back and laugh at him.

“I’ll quit being mean. I’m sorry,” she said, and with one last squeeze, she released him and slipped her underwear off as easily as she could in this cramped car. She was only grateful that she had thought to wear a skirt today. They could do this in here fairly inconspicuously that way.

She grabbed them, showed them to Tom, and tossed them over her shoulder. She pressed her chest up against his, leaning down and pressing her lips close to his ear. “I want you inside me.”

Tom needed no further encouragement. He grabbed her hips and guided him to her greedily. He entered fully and every cell in Sammy’s body suddenly blazed in response. They both cried out loud moans of pleasure as Tom began moving deep inside of her. Sammy rocked her hips to his rhythm, clawing at the exposed skin of his arms as every single second of this motion was pure bliss. She moaned again as he thrust harder, deeper, practically shredding every sense she had. This was all she ever wanted to know.

He pushed her hair out of her face and brought her down for another passionate kiss as they moved further and further toward climax together. Sammy started breathing Tom’s name, and the closer he brought her to the edge, the louder she got, finally screaming at the top of her lungs as they came together, flashes of light and color clouding her vision as the earth shifted and her entire body was full of this man, her one true love, her soul mate.

Everything she thought that she knew was now clear in her head as she fell against his chest and let him wrap his arms around her tightly. They stayed this way until the air in the car became too hot and stuffy to stand for much longer. Sammy picked up her head and stared down into Tom’s sleepy, satisfied eyes. He was incredibly sexy right now.

“You’re wonderful,” he whispered to her, pushing the hair back behind her ears and gently stroking her face with the lightest touch of his fingertips. She shivered a bit at this contact, loving the way he could make her entire body come to life with the lightest touch.

“You’re pretty wonderful yourself,” she said to him, the softest smile crossing her face. She felt as though he could read her thoughts right then. Maybe nothing really ever needed to be said, after all, it was probably better that way. It would make it easier for them to part ways.

For a split second, she thought Tom was going to succumb and speak the words, but he seemed to come to the same conclusion she did, swallowed what he was about to say, and gave her his broad, toothy grin instead. “Let’s go enjoy that ocean you brought me out here to see.”

“Sounds great,” she said, mirroring his grin, giving him one last quick kiss, and crawling around to allow Tom to sit up. Unfortunately, he was so tall that he could only crouch without stretching properly. He removed the used condom carefully, readjusting himself and zipping up. Sam leaned over and grabbed her underwear, balling them up discreetly and opening up the door to the car. The gust of fresh air made her feel instantly invigorated and Tom sighed as well.

“Are you all set?” she asked him, glancing back at him over her shoulder.

He snapped his pants closed, and tried unsuccessfully to sit up. “I’m ready to get out, feeling a little boarded up.”

“Understood,” she said, slipping out of the car and allowing him to climb out behind her. He stood on the solid ground and stretched out before running off to find a trash can to dispose of the evidence of their very public encounter. Sammy left the door open while he was gone to block the view of her quickly slipping her underwear back on. She turned around to shut the car door and couldn’t help the wide grin that crossed her face. She had never done anything like that before. Her early years with Zach were very passionate and adventurous, but there was never a moment when she was uninhibited or confident enough to take him into a car and have a quickie. The fact that they had been that impulsive made Sammy very happy. This was something new she shared with Tom only.

He returned to the car, pushing his hand through his hair, scratching it and mussing it up as he came back over to her. She adored the way his curls went every which way, especially when he absentmindedly ran his fingers through it. It was one of those small idiosyncrasies she had learned about him in the time they’d spent together, one that she found incredibly charming.

“Everything all right, love?” he asked her, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he stood in front of her. She smiled up at him, really taking a moment to appreciate their relationship. They could be hot and heavy one moment, have mind blowing sex in the back of a car, and then the next, they were sweet and affectionate as always. It was probably one of the only times Sammy realized that she could also be friends with a man she was also in a relationship with… given that their relationship lasted longer than a week.

Sammy didn’t want to give away too much of her heartbreak in her eyes, so instead, she answered, “Of course.” She stood up on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss before she took his hand and leaned into his side as he guided them back out to their spot.

By this time, they had both worked up a hell of an appetite, so they dove headfirst into their lunch, talking and laughing while they ate, relaxing as they enjoyed one another’s company. Once they finished they found themselves lying on their backs again, staring up into the sky. They commented on cloud shapes, telling stories about when they had done this before, and what seeing certain things could possibly mean psychologically. They laughed until it hurt, making these observations more and more ridiculous the longer they lay there.

Sammy pointed up at the sky, trying to outline one cloud that Tom was having trouble discerning. The words stopped in her throat when he grabbed her hand in his, pulling it down to match his lips and giving it a warm, lingering kiss. She smiled at him, drinking in this moment. They stared up at the sky, and before she knew it, Sammy had fallen asleep, her fingers still linked with Tom’s.

 

“Samantha.”

Someone was whispering to her, somewhere out there in the distance. All she saw in front of her was a thick fog. The whisper was so quiet that she almost didn’t believe it existed until she heard it again. She walked forward, calling out to whoever it was asking for her, but for some reason her voice wasn’t working. She waved her arms, trying to get rid of the fog, but if anything, it made it worse.

Sammy was confused, disoriented, and had a feeling of crushing loneliness filling her heart as she tried to find the voice. It was still calling to her, echoing out over the far reaches of this strange place. She knew who it could possibly be, but for some reason her brain wouldn’t let her think of his name. She tried desperately to call out for someone that she didn’t know, couldn’t see, and desperately longed for.

“Samantha!”

This time, Sammy opened her eyes. The fog dissipated immediately as she came back to herself, slowly but surely. The sunlight was fading around her and she wasn’t quite right in the head yet until she saw Tom’s face in her line of vision, his dark red brows lifted as he stared down at her. As soon as she opened her eyes wide enough to take him in, he gave her a relieved smile and pushed the hair out of her face. “For a moment there, you worried me.”

“I did?” she said, puzzled.

“A little. You weren’t waking up,” he said, and looked over his shoulder at the horizon. “We both fell asleep for several hours.”

“Hours?”

“Uh…” he leaned away from her, reaching for his iPhone. He pulled it up and checked the time. “It’s half past five, so I’d guess we were asleep probably four and a half hours.”

Sammy sighed heavily as she pulled herself upright. Tom sat up with her, planting a kiss on her cheek and pulling her close. She rested his head against his chest. “I can’t believe we slept so late. Four and a half hours is more than a nap, it’s practically a night’s sleep.”

“Four and a half hours?” he said skeptically.

“Some people can live on it.”

“They’re probably not very healthy people, but I concede to your point.”

“I know you do, because I’m right.”

He scoffed at her, kissing the top of her head with a chuckle. “You’re very stubborn.”

“From your lips,” she whispered, wrapping her arm around him and burying her head into his chest. She wanted him to completely envelope her right now, take her in his arms and hold her close. He did just that, winding one arm around her back and the other across her own outstretched arm. He rubbed her back soothingly, making her feel right at home in his perfect embrace.

They discussed what they were going to do now, since it was a little late in the day for them to go and hit the tennis courts and that had been the original plan. Tom insisted they could push it off for tomorrow, since there really wasn’t a rhyme or reason to what they were doing anyway. He confessed to her that he’d like to do it before their time together ran out, just because he wanted to give her something she would always remember. She couldn’t believe he felt the need to do this, like the memory of everything they were sharing, doing, and feeling wasn’t permanent enough for her.

She stared up at him for a moment and saw the fear in his eyes. He was truly terrified that she wasn’t going to remember him. It was unreal for her to even consider that it was a possibility. If he felt like she was going to forget him, than she should feel more nervous. He was surrounded by hundreds of gorgeous women on a day to day basis. It was far more likely that he’d forget about her than she would him.

“You have nothing to worry about,” she told him, giving his hand a squeeze. They were now sitting shoulder to shoulder so that she could snack on some of the leftovers from their lunch. She hadn’t realized how hungry she would be after their long nap, but it made sense.

He reached over and snatched the food she had just grabbed from her hand, but she didn’t seem to notice. It was so familiar and comfortable, sitting here with him, eating, acting as though the day was just going to keep going on. He wasn’t saying anything about her comment, but she knew he was mulling it through his brain. Tom was always thinking about something, so unlike most men she knew.

“Are you sure?” he asked her.

“Uh yeah,” she said sarcastically, unable to suppress the smirk that spread across her lips. “I’m going to forget the movie star I somehow conned into sleeping with me for a week. Because that totally happens to every girl in her lifetime, so much in fact, that she forgets about it right away. Boy, you’re lucky I gave you the time of day.”

He grinned, a hearty chuckle starting in his throat. “There was so much wrong with that statement,” he insisted. “You didn’t con me into bed, I’ll have you know. You drank me into bed, darling, get it right,” she nudged him hard in the ribs as he laughed at her, trying to avoid her inevitable attack. “Seriously, though, it’s not about you remembering what we did,” he explained, his face sobering instantly. “It’s about you remembering me, me, Tom, the man who… the man who so desperately loves you.”

Sammy’s eyebrows shot up when she heard this come out of his mouth. Tom didn’t seem fazed by it. In fact he looked incredibly fearful of her reaction, as though he had been planning on telling her the entire time.

She couldn’t stare at him a second longer. Her eyes were starting to fill up with tears and she didn’t want him to see her crying. The sun was starting to sink slowly, giving the horizon a bright orange glow out past the water. There were so few people on the beach that she decided the best course of action was to jump up, strip out of her clothes, and run headfirst into the waves.

And so she did, commenting that it was a good time for a swim, kicking off her shoes, shimmying out of her skirt, and tossing her top before she started running toward the surf. The tide was starting to roll in, so the waves were higher and more forceful than she anticipated, but it didn’t matter. The further she ran from Tom and the harder she fought against what he had said the more she was sure that it hadn’t actually happened. He didn’t say it, he didn’t ruin what they were doing by making the feelings real.

The water was stinging cold and Sammy was already shivering, but she didn’t care. She dove headfirst into the waves as they crashed closer and closer to the shore. She was going to rinse away Tom’s confession, erase it from her bones and maybe she could get past her time with this man unscathed. He had just made that impossible.

Sammy was so scared. She was going to lose Tom; that much was a fact. Now, he was breaking their agreement to tell her that he loved her, and not only did he love her, but he loved her ‘desperately.’ Maybe it was unfair to run away from him so quickly, but Sammy didn’t know how to handle all of the feelings that were pouring through her. This, out here in the ocean, this made sense. She didn’t think she could ever go back to the shore, to Tom… She needed to be out here.

It felt like an eternity before she resurfaced, facing the warm July air against the bitter cold of the ocean. She could taste the salt on her lips and couldn’t tell whether it was the ocean spray or her own tormented tears at this point.

She wanted to recover, but knew she wasn’t going to be able to. Right at that moment, she felt Tom grab her by the waist and pull her back. She badly wished that she could resist him, fight him off, tell him to go away and just leave her be, but she couldn’t do that. She felt much too weak right now, emotionally and physically. The last thing she wanted was to discuss this any further, but he didn’t seem to be taking no for an answer.

The moment he stopped and turned her around, she could see the emotions playing across his face clear as day; his own dark anguish clouding his eyes as they also sparkled with terror at her reaction. He was frowning deeply, the lines in his face etched into confusion and anger, his lips parted as he breathed, frustrated at having to come out here and grab her out of the water. There was so much conflict in his features that was reflected in her own heart right then that a fresh wave of tears flooded her cheeks, warm against the cool breeze.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, running out here like that?” he demanded, his voice hoarse with anger and thick with emotion. “You scared me to death! The tide’s coming in!”

“Maybe you should go back to shore then,” she yelled over the roar of the crashing waves. “Just leave me out here, I just need to be away!”

“No, dammit, I’m not going anywhere. Why would you run from me after I told you that I love you?” Sammy watched the anger fade from Tom’s face, left with only the fear and hesitation and pure unadulterated pain that she so hated seeing there. It was almost as though he knew that she couldn’t resist that look, had to erase it from his beautiful features.

“Tom, you have to go, g-go away now, before I…” she stammered, unable to make a coherent sentence past everything that came flooding to the surface, including a fresh wave of tears. Another wave crashed into them, causing Sammy to stumble closer to Tom, her entire body cold and wet. Tom was still in all of his clothes, soaked almost all the way up to his waist. This was one of those times that she loathed the fact that he was so tall. He got to be at least partially warm.

Then again, she was the idiot who had decided to dive headfirst into the cold Pacific.

“Before you what, Samantha? What? What do you want to say to me?” he asked, getting closer to her, grabbing her hands and pulling her closer.

“I can’t, Tom!”

“Why not?”

“I just, I just can’t.”

“But why!” he screamed at her, losing his patience. She had never seen him angry, not as Tom anyway. She wasn’t used to it, stepping away from him and wrapping her arms around her shivering body. She knew if Tom wasn’t so upset, he would have thrown his own dry shirt around her. Right now, though, his hands were running through his hair, his eyes squeezed shut. She wanted to throw her arms around him, tell him everything was going to be okay. But she couldn’t do that, because he had made sure that nothing was going to be okay anymore.

Tom turned back to her, the pain so deeply etched into his face that more tears poured down her cheeks. How could she resist this? She couldn’t let him hurt anymore… “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too,” he said, his voice carrying over the rushing waves. “Just because you’re scared – ”

“Of course I’m scared, Tom!” she yelled back. “I’m terrified!”

“Why? Why not embrace what we’re feeling? Why push it away? That’s what you’ve been doing since we met, and I’ve been begging you not to. Please don’t push me away, Samantha,” he pleaded with her, coming closer now and taking her hands again. He was trembling, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the icy salt water or the things they were saying. It was probably both.

“Tom, I can’t love you, I can’t say the words or it’ll be real, something that I have to let go, willingly…”

“Why? Why not just feel all of it as intensely and brightly as we can?” he said, his eyes wide and glassy. “Why did we even choose to spend this week together if we didn’t think this was a possibility? This love, this connection, this feeling like my soul has been searching for you, and here you are. I know you feel it.”

“I…” Sammy wanted to deny what he was saying, but she couldn’t. Tom Hiddleston was undeniably, completely, and without any tiniest shadow of a doubt, her one and only true love in this world. The one person you search for through the snow and rain, crossing the most treacherous paths of the earth, swimming across oceans, braving through the fire and ice, digging and digging for until you finally find them and can complete the other half of your fractured soul. She closed her eyes, turning her hands in his and gripping his wrists tightly, not wanting to let him go. The thought of them tearing apart was the one thing she could not bear, but not telling him everything she felt for him seemed the bigger crime.

And so, with no more apprehension, she told him what he meant to her. “Tom, you are the sun, the moon, the night, the day, the entire world to me. I didn’t really know I could love until I met you. I didn’t know that this kind of love could exist in the natural world. This feels like something we should have on some other time and plain of existence. It’s like what we have doesn’t even fit in on this earth. We’re angels, Tom, you and me, we’re angels and we’re not supposed to be this connected, this in love, this deep…”

She finally opened her eyes and felt all the air leave her body as she peered into Tom’s eyes. He was smiling at her, a single tear pouring down his cheek, the love shining so brightly out of his eyes she was sure she would be blinded if she stared too long.

“Samantha, you are the angel,” he said to her, pulling her closer to him. “You’re my miracle, and even though our time isn’t now, we are destined to be together. I know it in my heart,” Sammy heard his voice crack, saw the second tear pour from his eye, and couldn’t help but let a few more leak down her cheek as well. He maintained his composure and continued. “I know it in my heart, I know it in my soul. This is not the end of our story.”

Sammy sobbed out loud when he said this, forgetting everything around her. Was he right? Was he giving her this hope to make her feel better, or did he truly believe that at some point in the future they could be together?

Instead of answering him, she threw herself into his arms, pressing her head against him, crying so deeply that she thought she would never be able to contain herself. He squeezed her tightly to him, his head on her shoulder.

The ocean continued to crash. The sun continued to set. The world and life went on around them but for this magnificently blissful moment, Tom and Sammy stood in the water holding each other, knowing that if nothing else, they had this. They had each other. They had their love.


	11. Present Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of Part One. Please enjoy!

Present Day

It has been a long, hard week. What with Molly’s news about Tom coming to Michigan sometime soon, my decision to finally tell Tom about Emma, and Zach’s unexpected email and subsequent drop in, I am having a hell of a time getting my life back in order. Too much has happened for me to feel like I have any control anymore. Maybe this is my punishment for keeping the secret for so long.

I know, deep down in my heart that Tom would have wanted to know from the very beginning. The second the blood test was positive, I should have been on the phone, tracking him down. He would have tried his hardest to drop everything and be with me. He told me he wanted kids, and I know he loves me, so what would the harm have been, really?

I can’t afford to think that way now. If I do, I’ll fall into a vicious cycle of depression and regret, and that’s not at all productive. Besides, my baby is still on the mend from her fever scare and I need to be attentive.

On top of that, I really need to do some writing. I have several pages due soon and I am woefully behind. This is why I am grateful that I budget my time the way that I do. Obviously, life happens and things come up, but I am certain that if I sit down with a big cup of coffee and my music going, I can crank out a good chapter worth of work. I have had to do it before and I know I can do it again.

I have taken Emma to school, her last day of the week, and now I have four hours completely free to get some writing done. As much as I prefer to just stay out in town to finish the work, I know it’s best to go home and seclude myself to do so. I won’t be distracted or constantly worrying about whether or not I’m going to get recognized for one reason or another.

I get a good deal of work done before I have to leave to pick up Emma from school. After this, we have to go grab some groceries quickly and then get home so I can help Emma with her homework. She always has a small packet of work to do at the end of the week and we have made it a habit to make sure she gets it done as soon as possible. Once we have that done, I am going to allow her the luxury of doing whatever her tiny heart pleases as I finish the last few pages of my chapter. I was able to get a lot done today, and I am hopeful that by tomorrow I will be able to turn in a good chunk to my editor before he starts blowing up my phone.

Emma and I have a fantastic time at the grocery store, as silly as that sounds. She and I enjoy picking out our food together, making a game out of it at times. In the early years when Emma was starting to gain a bit of independence and test her boundaries with me, I discovered that it was easiest for me to come up with a way to distract her. I wanted to make sure she thought that going into town was fun without also being one of those lazy mothers that simply buys their child toys or snacks if they behave. That’s the moment they learn how to act out in public, eliciting a gift because of how badly they’ve pissed you off. I don’t think so.

The moment we fill up our shopping cart, check out, and step outside, the reality of everything comes hurtling back at me. I suddenly remember that at any moment, I’m either going to hear from Molly that Tom has announced his trip via Twitter or that he will inexplicably turn a corner and just be there. After all, I know that when he comes to Michigan, he will look me up. He’d once said that our time together wasn’t the end of our story, and I had believed him. How could I not? What we shared was so real and pure that it was impossible to think it was only meant to last seven days.

I shake my head at myself for allowing my thoughts to wander so far off the deep end. Thinking Tom is going to just appear anywhere in this small town is a reach, even for me (and I write books about goblins falling love with vampires). I focus back on my daughter and we load up the car and go home.

It doesn’t take us long to get the groceries in and then get down to business. Usually Emma’s homework is only about three to four pages long and involves a lot of tracing and writing letters, some coloring, and number matching. I let her go at her own pace, which can sometimes either be very quick or take nearly twenty minutes because she keeps getting distracted. Today, fortunately, she is feeling much more confident and is able to breeze right through a good deal of her work. We check and double check it, and when I am satisfied she has finished completely, I put her homework away and hang her bag up, giving her a quick snack before I send her on her way.

Emma has opted to play in her room quietly today, for which seems all too fortuitous, but because I have so much work to do I do not question it. What’s that saying about looking a gift horse in the mouth? I set to work immediately, armed with another cup of coffee. Ever since my time with Tom, I have acquired quite the taste for sweetened cappuccinos. I broke down and bought myself a cappuccino machine with one of my book advances. The majority of the money had been spent on Emma and I planned to save the rest of it when Molly insisted I get something for myself. She told me that I worked hard and really needed the tiniest bit of spoiling. That was my one big selfish purchase and the only one since I’d found out I was pregnant.

I take a careful sip and flip open my laptop. No sooner have I opened up the Word file when my phone starts going off. I close my eyes briefly, feeling my stomach doing flip flops for so many reasons. There’s a high probability of the caller being one of three people; first, my editor, calling to ask where the pages are, stressing me out by telling me over and over again what the deadline is so that I will work harder. This is not a call I want to take. I am already stressed out enough as it is because I feel so far behind on my pages. The second possibility is Zach. He has called several times since the night we fought so viciously on the phone and I cannot think of a clue as to why. If he is calling to reprimand me more for decisions I can’t unmake, he knows that I will hang up on him again. Why would he bother making the call at all? If it’s not that, he’s calling to apologize, which is thoughtful of him, but I know it’s a ruse to try and get me to talk to him before he tries to convince me to tell Tom again. His position on this matter is so firm that I highly doubt he is going to see the error of his ways after twelve hours. I do not want to take this call, either.

The third possibility and probably the most terrifying of the three is Molly calling with news about Tom. I know his trip must be any day now, even though Molly has not said anything up until now and I am afraid to ask. It’s the strangest sensation I have about the whole thing. It is a feeling I recognize deep, deep in the hollow caverns of my broken heart. I have not felt anything this stirring since the moment I told Tom that I loved him, waist deep in the Pacific Ocean. It sounds ridiculous after five years, and I certainly don’t know if I believe it completely myself, but I do feel as though I can still feel his soul. I know it’s close, maybe not necessarily in proximity yet, but definitely in time. It’s not going to be too long until Tom is here again.

I take a deep breath and rub my forehead. I am being a complete moron right now. There’s no way any of this is possible. I cannot still feel him and there’s no way he’s going to venture all the way across the state to visit me after all of this time. I know our love was real, but it’s been half a decade. If he hasn’t reached out by now, he isn’t going to. My heart hurts all of a sudden.

I open my eyes and finally decide to venture a glance down at the phone. Once I see that it’s Zach again, I expect to feel completely relieved, but instead, I am intensely disappointed that it wasn’t Molly. The voice mail catches the call and I can’t explain it when I feel tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. I am forced to deal with my ex-husband over and over again, a man I had no intention of ever seeing again, and I am still being kept from the one man that ever shook my world so deep to its core that I never really recovered. It feels so unfair and for one minute, I let myself feel the pity of this statement.

Once I am done feeling sorry for myself, I take a sip of my latte, calm my heart down a bit, and decide to get back to work. I start typing, knowing exactly where I intend to go with the story just to finish up this chapter for my editor. I finally get on a roll and my phone starts going off again.

This time, I know right away that it is Zach. I am not in the mood, but I can only foresee him continually calling until after he leaves town. If just to stop the phone calls, I reach down and answer it forcefully, as if the harder I push the button, the more he will realize that I mean business.

“What do you want, Zach?” I demand the instant I answer. I’m not going to let him get the first word in.

“I need to see you, Sam,” he tells me. He sounds a bit distressed at this. He doesn’t waste time getting his point across, either.

“Why do you think I would ever agree to that?” I say, frowning deeply. There’s no way I want to entertain another fight with this man. And there’s no way I’m leaving the house tonight. I’m settled, comfortable, and I have work to do. He’s not worth it to walk away from my work.

“I just wanted to see you one last time before I leave town.”

I don’t know if it’s because I always had a soft spot for Zach or if the years of being a mother have just made me that much more susceptible to giving in, but I finally lose my resolve and I crumble. “Fine, Zach, but if you want to see me tonight, you’ll have to come out here. I’ve got a lot of work to do and I’d prefer not to drag Emma out of the house too late and have her in the middle of all of this.”

“I completely understand,” he says, and for a second, I believe he does. “I am leaving tomorrow morning so I wanted to get together tonight anyway. Just text me your address and I’ll head over in a few.”

“All right,” I say, resigned. I guess this is going to happen one way or another, and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be too ugly. I can probably combat the questions and advice about Tom and focus on getting him in and out and believing that I am taking his words to heart. It should be easy. I used to play verbal matches against this man every night and win. He hasn’t evolved that much.

After I text him my address, I save the little I actually wrote tonight on my laptop, close the program, and shut the lid. I know I’m not getting any more writing done for a while. I take the opportunity to go check on Emma, who is complacent in her room, playing with some of her Legos. I give her a quick kiss and try not to get too wrapped up into her explanation of the house she is building. I have to at least make the house look presentable. As I pass a mirror in the hallway, I realize I should make myself at least somewhat presentable as well. I can do that much for my self-esteem.

Pulling the house together actually takes a little longer than I thought. I keep seeing things that I’ve been putting off, things I don’t want other people to see that are visiting my home for the first time. Fifteen minutes pass before I can call myself satisfied with the house. I run quickly into my bedroom, throw on a pair of clean jeans, a discarded pink off-the-shoulder sweatshirt that is comfortable and cute, and most importantly, a bra. I duck into the bathroom, put on some deodorant, a tiny bit of eye makeup, and throw my messy hair into a loose bun at the back of my neck. I survey my reflection. I am definitely not suited to go to a ball, but I am decent enough.

I walk back out into the living room, having disregarded my phone after maniacally running around, trying to get the house together. If Zach has texted to let me know when he’ll be over, I haven’t heard it.

Just as I am about to grab my phone, I hear a knock at the door. This is one disadvantage to living out in the woods. I have a long, scenic driveway that is all dirt, and my house sits a bit back from it, covered in trees, so it’s hard to hear when vehicles approach. I often leave the front door open when I know that Molly is coming.

I answer the door and see Zach there, and his full physical presence once again takes my breath away. I am under no assumptions about what this man is like personally, but damned if he isn’t still intoxicating and attractive. Natural charisma really never goes away…

I invite Zach in and he doesn’t bother making himself comfortable. Obviously, he wants to get this over just as quickly as I do, and for that, I am grateful. I really don’t have the time to pretend and entertain him before we get right down to it. There are more important things occupying my mind.

Before I can get into it with Zach, I go check on Emma, make sure she is satisfied with what she is doing, and I leave the door open a crack so I can still keep one ear open if anything should happen. I return to the living room quickly, eager to get this encounter over with before too much more time passes. It is still light out after all, so it makes me feel as though there is more than enough time in the day to accomplish what I need to.

“So what is so important that you had to see me tonight?” I ask him, crossing my arms in front of me.

He shuffles back and forth a little, reaching up and rubbing his head a bit before he actually answers my question. My patience is starting to grow thin. Finally, he looks over at me, smiling simply. “I really wanted to see you before I left town to say that I really didn’t mean to attack you the way I did. I am very sorry.”

To say the least I am impressed with the sincerity in his tone. He even looks contrite, so I am inclined to believe him. I don’t say anything, though. He seems to take my silence as invitation to explain.

“My whole point in this visit was to make sure you know how badly I felt about the things that happened between us during our marriage and how much I did need to come back here to ask for your forgiveness. The last thing I wanted…” he chuckles at himself a bit, and continues, “was to insinuate that you didn’t know who the father of your child was and then continually berate you for choices you made a long time ago, without me.” I wait a bit longer to see what he is going to say next. So far, he is really surprising me. “You were right about one thing, and that is that I never had to make the hard decisions in our marriage. After all, you were the one that had to pick up your life and move it all the way to California just to be with me. For me the military wasn’t even that hard of a choice. It was just the next logical step. You were the one that made the sacrifices and suffered the most, so anything you went through after me is none of my business. Whatever your reasons were, I’m sure they were right at the time. I trust you enough for that.”

My heart is softening as I listen to him. For the very first time in the eight years we were together, everything I went through, gave up, and dealt with was finally being acknowledged. I honestly didn’t think I’d have any of that time validated. It is amazing to have someone tell you that it wasn’t all for nothing.

“I am sorry, Sammy,” he finishes, giving me a shadow of that crooked smile that I am always so bewitched by.

I finally let my arms fall, relaxing at my sides as I take everything in. Of all the conversations I expected to have with Zach tonight, this was not at all what I pictured. I am so grateful that even an iota of this stress has been taken off of my shoulders. I feel like I can breathe somewhat.

“Do you really mean that, Zach?” I ask, if just for a confirmation that he is not here to scream again.

“Yeah, I do,” he says, his full smile gracing his lips.

I take a few steps forward, feeling comfortable enough to be close to Zach again. I don’t feel as though at any moment I might lash out and slap him across the face. I give him my own small smile, mostly to assure him that I am considering accepting his apology. The look in his eyes tells me that he understands.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry we had so many misunderstandings while you were here. We could have actually made this visit… sort of pleasant if we had wanted to. I think I’ve grown up enough to do that,” I confess. It may have been nice to just have a simple lunch or a cup of coffee with Zach while he was here.

“That would have been nice. Maybe we’ll see each other again,” he says, giving me a small, sad smile. I can’t help but feel a little bad for the guy. I know he’s living back in Michigan as well, but he and I both know it is doubtful that I would ever let him back into my life. Not with the memory of Tom hanging over my head, not to mention his child.

“Maybe,” I say. I give him a smile as well and wait, awkwardly, to see what we will do next. He takes a step forward and opens his arms, indicating that he’d like for me to step in and give him a hug.

I hotly debate it in my head for a moment and then decide to just go for it. It’s very likely I’m never going to see him again, and the thought really does sadden me. It’s comforting to know that it’s not as sad as the first time I had this realization about Zach.

I wrap my arms around him and squeeze. I remember how it felt being in his arms, so comfortable and at peace, and it’s no different. I really believe it’s the one thing that people can’t change about themselves.

It feels so familiar here that I set my head on his shoulder, close my eyes, and take him in for the couple of seconds we have together. They say that the strongest sense tied to memory is smell, and that is holding true right now as I breathe him in. He has the same musky smell to him and suddenly I am reminded of all the good times I had with this man, but just as easily I remember all the bad times.

I am about to pull out of the hug when I hear Emma coming up behind me. “Mommy, why is the door open?” her tiny voice asks me.

I break the contact with Zach to look down at my daughter, who is pointing at the door, which is indeed open. In my rush and anxiety to get Zach in and out, it has slipped my mind to even bother shutting it. Keeping it open for Molly has become such a habit that it was bound to happen at some point.

“It was a mistake, sweetie, Mommy didn’t mean to leave it open,” I tell her, leaning down and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

She stares up quizzically at Zach, her big brown eyes unblinking. She doesn’t say anything, but I know she wants to ask who this strange man is in her home.

“This is Mommy’s friend, Zach. Zach, this is Emma,” I say, introducing them. Zach gives her a very warm smile, hiding any other thoughts I know he wants to express carefully.

“There’s a Zach in my class,” she responds, a statement I know is coming. I have always appreciated the way Emma is with meeting new people. She’s not overly friendly but also not agonizingly shy. I couldn’t imagine how annoying it would be to have a child constantly clinging to your leg.

“That’s really cool!” Zach says, kneeling down to her level, a bright smile crossing his face. “It was so nice meeting you!” In response, I give Zach a warm smile of thanks for being so sweet to my daughter, and then look back to Emma, giving her another kiss on the cheek.

It happens slowly after that. I pull my gaze up to the door, about to stand up and close it, when I notice something outside for the first time. The sun is starting to set slowly, so it’s not quite dark but it’s not bright either. For a moment it’s hard for me to focus on what it could possibly be. I am mostly struck by the fact that there is no longer one vehicle in my driveway.

A second has crept up and I have no idea who it belongs to.

I turn to Zach quickly, suddenly nervous for all the wrong reasons. I don’t know what’s going on outside but I am going to go figure this out right away, and I am thankful another adult is in the house.

“Would you mind watching her for a second, please?” I say, and without waiting for an answer, I open the screen door and exit onto the porch, getting a better look at my driveway. The cars are parked close together, and I definitely don’t recognize the second, but my eyes finally find the dark figure standing in the middle of my driveway, looking slightly dumbfounded.

It’s Tom.

I feel, all at once, like I’m about to pass out. My head is spinning and I can barely remember how to breathe, let alone think or move. What I am seeing cannot possibly be real. It must be the delusions of a bitter, lonely woman longing for her youth and lost loves. Tom Hiddleston, my Tom, cannot possibly be here, standing in my driveway in Michigan, facing the doorway. Those eyes, those beautiful sea blue eyes cannot be here, staring so intensely into me for the first time in so, so long. No, this isn’t real.

And yet, it is.

We are stuck here, staring at each other, neither of us moving or speaking. He is still a good distance away, but from what I can see, his face is stern, his jaw tight, determination in his expression. I don’t know what to make of it because I have no idea what’s on his mind. All I know is that he is here and he looks so much better than I remember, so much more than the Youtube video could show me. His hair is its natural hue, something I never got to see on him in person. It’s cropped close so that his curls don’t get too out of control, and the red goatee he had donned in his interview was now gone, leaving his face as smooth as the last time I had seen him. He looked much younger with it gone, almost as young as he was when we first met five years ago. He is standing here, dapper as always in his leather jacket, reminding me so much of our time together that I have to brace myself so I don’t fall to my knees with the force of all of these memories.

My brain cannot process what is happening. Tom has still not moved and I feel as if we are stuck in a game of chicken to see who talks first. I know, though, that I cannot stand here all day trying to decide if he’s real or not. If he is, I am going to take advantage of the couple seconds we have left to reunite before I shatter his world completely.

I glance back quickly over my shoulder to see Emma, standing back from the door, staring out curiously. Zach’s eyes are wide, because he has been watching out the screen door and saw who was standing there. Before I lose my nerve completely, my feet are at last able to move from the spot on the porch and down to Tom, who is still standing motionless in the driveway. I slowly walk up to him, taking in every new detail I can spot as I get closer. I see the outline of his jaw, the length of his fingers, the shape of his shoulders, the lines around his eyes, and now I am so close I can see the rise and fall of his chest, the way he seems to be breathing heavier now that I am here, right in front of him, and he can take me in completely.

So much emotion passes through me that even though I want to open up my mouth and talk, nothing is going to come out anytime soon. If I try to speak, I will start weeping uncontrollably, trying in vain not to sob past the huge lump forming in my throat. I don’t know how long I can take the silence anymore, though, so I feel I am about to give it a shot.

Until Tom speaks first. “Samantha?” he whispers, everything in his voice sounding so familiar and wonderful that I close my eyes for a moment to enjoy it. His accent, his lyrical way of speaking, his use of my full name, even the tone of love and loss in his voice bring back so much to me and what I felt that week.

“Tom?” I finally answer, but I can manage no more than a whisper myself. I see the same look pass over his face that passed over mine, the one of such desperate longing and unrequited love that it was impossible not to feel it every second of every single day. He missed me and he still loves me. Inexplicably, he is here… he is here for me.

“It’s me,” he says, that wide, toothy grin spreading across his face as a tear spills down his cheek. “I’m here.”

“You are,” I say, and I feel my body yearning for this man, as if it remembers exactly where to go. The spot where I rest my head on his chest, the waist where I wrap one arm, and his shoulder where I wrap the other. I want to kiss his perfect pink lips because they look just as delectable as they did five years before. The line of his neck is so beautiful, waiting for me to place my breath upon it, an act that will send shivers up his spine. I am absolutely ready for this moment physically, but my brain hasn’t quite caught on yet.

Tom seems to be struggling as well. I can see his breathing beginning again, and he finally moves by taking a step back. Even though I know we haven’t seen each other in a while so jumping into one another’s arms is probably not going to happen right now, I certainly don’t expect him to recoil from me.

The hurt must be etched in my face because he hurriedly takes a step forward, his brows knit together in concern. He wants to reach out for me, I can just feel it, but he holds back. I see the hurt start in his expression as well, spreading across his face and making it hard for me to concentrate on anything other than making him feel better.

I stare into his eyes silently for a few seconds before it dawns on me why he is so upset; he knows about Emma and has shown up to confront me about it. The bottom falls out of my stomach as I wish against all hopes that I am making a wild assumption right now.

“Tom…” I begin again, because I need to know what is going through his head. “What are you doing here?” Feigning mild ignorance will work, too.

And then he gives me a look that tells me he is honestly a little disappointed that I have no clue why he’s here. Did he expect me to follow his career after we parted ways? “I’m here to start a new project. We’re filming in Detroit,” he tells me.

This much I obviously already know, but playing dumb is my safest bet. “Detroit? That’s an awfully long drive across the state to show up here on my front porch.”

He gives me a strained smile, showing me he has been caught in a lie, which isn’t really true, unless you consider an omission a lie. “I had to see you,” he says quietly, his eyes dark as he stares into me, piercing through my soul. I hold my breath, waiting for him to continue. I am sure he is about to confront me about Emma, but he says, “I missed you so desperately, but I realize that I may have waited too long.” At this, I see the sadness return to his eyes.

Now I’m confused. If he doesn’t know about Emma, what the hell is he talking about? “Why do you say that?”

Tom now looked honestly puzzled. He gestures up at the house and says, “Your family. I just… I should have come back sooner,” he mumbles, lowering his arm and taking a couple of steps back from me. “This might have been a mistake.”

I’m still confused for a second as I watch him turn his back to me, but finally, comprehension dawns. I drop my jaw, willing some noise to come out of it. He was out here watching while Zach and I embraced, so he saw Emma as well and naturally assumed that the three of us were a family. I don’t know how to express to him just how wrong he is.

“No, Tom, you have it all wrong!” I shout to his retreating back.

He stops, turning around to face me, saying, “I do?”

“Yes,” I say, exasperated but thankful he has stopped walking away. “Yes, that man and I aren’t together. That’s actually…” I take a deep breath. I don’t know if telling him the truth is really going to make anything better, but we always promised to be honest with each other. “That’s Zach, my ex-husband,” I watch Tom’s face darken even further into a mixture of anger and deep confusion. “No, it’s not like that, Zach’s just here to visit, he wanted to talk to me and apologize for everything. That’s all, I swear.”

“Are you being honest with me?” he asks me quietly, and I realize he has remembered our agreement as well. I only nod and I see Tom’s face lightens slightly as he is satisfied with what I’ve told him. He takes a couple tentative steps forward before stopping again, causing my heart to skip a beat. “What about the child?”

This is the dreaded moment I know has finally, inevitably come. I feel my entire body go ice cold with fear and my hands become clammy almost instantly. I can’t stop the tumbling of my stomach or the rapid palpitation of my heart. What am I going to tell him? How do I word this? I’m certainly not going to start off by lying about her and pretending that she’s not mine just to placate Tom.

No, it’s pretty much now or never.

I take a deep breath so I can just get this out quickly, “Okay, that’s actually something – ” but before I can start making any good sense, I hear Emma’s voice calling me, her voice coming closer and closer. I turn toward her and see Zach walking out, leading her to me.

“I’m sorry, she just wouldn’t stop asking for you,” he says, looking uncomfortable. I want him to just go, but Tom’s vehicle has blocked him in. I shoot him a dirty look and then can’t help but notice the shadow of a smug look that crosses his face. He has brought her out here on purpose, and for that, I want to throttle him to within an inch of his life. I restrain myself.

I take Emma’s hand in mine and kneel down to tend to her. She appears to be very uncomfortable, in the presence of two strange men all at once, and I cannot blame her. I’m a bit uncomfortable myself.

“Mommy, what’s all these people doing at our house?” she says quietly, staring straight up at Tom but trying to be as discreet as a four year old can be.

“It’s okay, baby, they’re not staying,” I tell her, a little more quietly, but I am sure both men have heard me.

“Okay,” she whispers back, and I kiss her on the head, take her hand, and turn to stand up. The moment my eyes land back on Tom I am scared to the very bottom of my soul. He is not paying any attention to me anymore, he is staring down at Emma so intensely I feel like she might explode under his gaze. I watch his eyes shift all over, taking her in, and finally landing on her strawberry blonde curls, hair that looks so much like his own. I watch him raise his hand up and absentmindedly run his hand through his hair, like I’ve seen him do a hundred times, but this time is different. To my horror, I watch him figure out the truth almost instantly. His eyes are on fire and he avoids my gaze as long as possible before he decides the better tactic is to approach Emma.

He kneels down on the ground in front of her, and he says softly, “Hello, I’m Tom.”

I don’t know what to do right now. I want to scoop up my baby and run back into the house, locking the doors behind us and forgetting everything that has happened up until this point. For one crazy moment I find myself wondering how fast we could move out of state and go completely off the grid. I come back to myself as I realize with a sad longing that this is the first time Tom has ever met his daughter. Tears spring to my eyes within micro seconds of this insight. Through my tears, I manage to peer down at Emma to try and gauge her reaction. She is sticking close to me but she has kind of an amused smile on her face. I wonder what she is about to say.

“You talk funny,” she says, and I nudge her.

“That’s very rude, baby,” I say.

“It’s okay,” he says through a throaty chuckle and that wide, beautiful grin that Emma seems to be responding to as well. She is giving him a big, goofy smile back. My heart catches in my throat as I realize that Emma has inherited that from him as well. I don’t know how I didn’t notice until now. “I do kind of talk funny,” he says. He chances a glance up at me, and he is giving nothing away. He has a mask covering what he’s truly feeling. Damn actors.

“So, darling, how old are you?” he asks, an apprehensive look on his face. It seems almost as though he is steeling himself for the inevitable answer.

She stares down at her fingers, counting out her age. She turns and shows it to him, declaring, “I’m four!”

“That’s great, darling,” he says with that big grin again. “Now do you know when you turn five?”

Emma frowns deeply, confused at this question. This isn’t something they’ve been really stressing teach the kids in pre-school, and I am trying to get her to remember but some things stick better than others. She shakes her head and guesses, “Next month?”

In spite of everything, I laugh at Emma. She knows that her birthday is in the spring, and yet she is asking Tom, a perfect stranger, if he happens to know when her birthday is. “Let me help you figure it out,” he says, and I am just now becoming aware of how good he is with kids. The tone of his voice has even changed. “When your mummy throws you a big party for your birthday, is there snow on the ground?”

She thinks for a moment and then shakes her head vigorously, bouncing her soft curls back and forth across her face. He smirks at her and pretends to think for a minute. “Okay. No snow. How about the pretty leaves that fall from the trees? Is that on the ground during your birthday?” She shakes her head again. “All right, no leaves. When your mummy throws you your party, is it really hot out? Do you get to go swimming?”

Finally, Emma says, “No, it’s Easter time!”

I cringe, knowing what is coming next. I had completely forgotten about the association we did with her birthday and Easter, because they usually fall within a few days of each other. She loves the way we celebrate both.

I stare down at Tom, willing him to stand up and look at me. I don’t know what he’s thinking and I am starting to feel very, very terrified. I am so afraid that he’s going to just walk away and never look back that I feel the tears forming again. I wish they would go away so badly so I can be prepared for the next part.

But nothing will prepare me for it. Before Tom stands up to confront me, he says, “What was your name, darling?”

“I’m Emma!”

I close my eyes, knowing the blow is coming and tears fall down my face again. I can feel the anger rolling off of Tom before I even open my eyes back up.

Sure enough, he is glaring at me, his green blue eyes swimming with unshed tears as a million thoughts dance across his face. “Her name is Emma?”

I open my mouth, intent on saying something, but instead just nod my head yes. I have lost all hope that this may end well, but I really didn’t have much of that to begin with. I look up at Tom, who is now staring off into the distance, his jaw clenched so tight I fear he may grind off his teeth. He turns his head slightly and sniffs, clearly trying to rid some of the tears before he turns back to me. He doesn’t necessarily do a great job.

“Tell me what I need to hear, Samantha,” he says in a low voice. He is furious but has it contained well for Emma’s sake. I wish there was some magic thing I could say to make him not feel all of this all at once, but I am also glad he is finding out this way, face to face. I owe him an honest answer. I always have.

I take a deep breath and pull Emma in close to me. She wraps her arms around my legs and rests her head against me and with my child by my side, I find the last remaining shred of strength I have to say this.

“Emma’s your daughter, Tom.”


	12. Part Two: Day Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning of Part Two

Part Two  
Five Years Ago: Day Five

Sammy’s eyes fluttered open the next morning, staring straight up at the ivory patterns on the ceiling in her hotel room. She had a fantastic feeling deep in her heart and it took her brain a couple of moments to catch up and remind her why she was feeling so good.

A smile spread across her tired face as she recalled the events of last night in vivid detail; the cold spray of the ocean on her wet cheeks, ignoring the fear and diving in headfirst, telling Tom that she loved him. She searched her heart and was reassured that she had made the right call, just like Tom had presumably done when he told her as well.

She took a deep, calming breath, happy for any time she had left with this man, even if it was two days. She had to just keep reminding herself that because their time together was short, she didn’t need to be wasting it worrying about the inevitable end. It was silly to waste any precious second she had, especially now that she had given voice to everything she felt so deeply for Tom. It was real and out there. Tom had even opened up the possibility that their day would come.

“Are you awake?” she heard him whisper next to her.

She blinked a couple of times and unable to contain the wide, happy smile that crossed her features, she rolled over and met Tom’s gaze. His blue-green eyes were sleepy, but full of love and unmatched joy as he gave her the sweetest, warmest smile she’d ever received and reached over to stroke her face gently.

“Good morning,” she said to him, her eyes so lost in his that she could scarcely remember to breathe.

“Good morning,” he repeated to her, raking his gaze all over her face, his eyes critical and probing while also soft and adoring. Only Tom Hiddleston could pull off this look successfully.

Sammy was suddenly aware of how awkward this moment was. Last night had been its own fantastic love story, what with the ocean, the cold air, the embrace, and the confessions of love going back and forth. Now, they were in the grip of daylight, the night before remembered but no longer present with them. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she searched his face for some clue as to what he was thinking. She didn’t know if she wanted to be the first one to give voice to it. She was nervous, her heart pounding in her chest at the thought of saying it, but excited, too. It was truly something to love someone like this so quickly after having her heart shattered. It was almost too good to be true.

Tom was silent for a beat, pushing her hair back, running his fingers through it, gently catching the sensitive skin of her ear, his fingertips grazing her neck. He was sending shivers down her spine with every subtle contact and Sammy was aware that it really didn’t matter if they ever said it out loud again. Lying here next to him and holding him was enough.

His smile widened a little, revealing his pearly whites as he softly touched her face, and finally breathed, “I love you.”

That warm, intoxicating feeling of sheer happiness flooded Sammy’s body instantly. She was so in love with this man for so many reasons, but she had to say the thing she loved most and caused her to fall the hardest was the way he was able to just read her thoughts and speak them aloud.

It was amazing.

“I love you,” she answered, and the moment the words escaped her lips, Tom had pulled her in for an exquisitely passionate kiss, his arms enveloping her. He moved one hand down, cupping her rear and bringing her in completely. She pressed her body up against his, suddenly full of desire for this man she so loved. He wanted her badly, kissing her frantically as though at any moment this would be over. She allowed him inside of her, tenderly, magnificently, falling deeper and deeper into the depths of his soul with every second that passed. He kept his arms wrapped around her, squeezing her tightly into him, delving into her kisses with such fervor that she thought she would explode from the intensity.

They finished and lay together, still connected, unwilling to break apart for any reason right now. Sammy was, for the first time in many months, undeniably happy.

Once they finally broke apart and made their way lazily to the shower, they spent their time in the hot water discussing what they wanted to do for the day. They agreed to give tennis another try since they hadn’t gotten to it the night before (the remainder of the night had consisted of coming straight back to the hotel and consummating their love all night long). Sammy admitted that she was a little nervous because she was so physically awkward and bad at sports. He only responded with a soft chuckle, kissing her quickly on the lips and telling her that there was no way she could be physically awkward after what he had seen her do in bed. She merely rolled her eyes and swatted at him playfully.

“Is there anything you had in mind for the day?” Tom asked her, his hands moving up her neck and to her hair, helping her push it back into the flow of the water. Sammy had so desperately missed the way a shower could be intimate and sensuous as well as productive. She loved having him there, running his fingers through her hair, massaging her skin, and taking care of her.

“All I can think about right now is making you wash my hair all day,” she said with a moan as she relaxed into the water.

He laughed, his agile fingers still combing through her hair. “I would gladly do that, my love, but I highly doubt you actually want to stand here in the shower all day.”

“With you?” she said, opening one eye and peering up at him. He was absolutely beautiful, the bright red stubble showing clearly on his face as the water dripped from his pronounced jawline. If she had the chance to be naked and wet with him an entire day, why would she say no? “I bet I could suffer through it,” she said with a devilish grin.

“You can be a real shit sometimes, you know that?” he said.

“Yeah, but isn’t that why you love me?” she said, opening her eyes and giving him her best doe-eyed expression, batting her eyelashes for good measure.

His smile softened slightly as he responded, “And so much more,” and then leaned in for a kiss. Once they broke apart, he pursed his lips at her and narrowed his eyes. “You still didn’t tell me what you’d like to do today.”

“I don’t have anything particular in mind, that’s why I didn’t answer you, dammit!” she said, sticking her tongue out.

“Difficult!” he reprimanded, eliciting a grin from both of them. She stood up on her tiptoes and placed a small kiss on his cheek. He gave her an adorable smirk that lifted her heart.

“Is there anything you want to do?” she asked him, running her fingers through his sparse red chest hair. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to memorize the feel of his skin against her fingertips, etching in into her nervous system as deeply as possible.

He was silent for a moment, contemplating. Sammy opened her eyes and looked up at him just as his face lit up with the formulation of an idea. He gave her a wide, evil grin and she felt nervous for a moment.

“What? What is it you’re going to do to me today?” she asked, apprehensive.

He giggled at her, taking her in his arms and bending down to kiss her fully. He didn’t answer her right away, and she was okay with it as she laced her arms around his neck and pulled him down even more. She trusted him not to do anything she was too uncomfortable with but at the same time she wanted to be adventurous, so unlike how she had always been in the past. Whatever he had in mind couldn’t be half as scary as the thought of losing him in two days.

“Are you going to tell me?” she pleaded.

He kissed the top of her head and reached around her to shut the water off. As soon as he had done that, he cupped her face, kissed her one more time, and gave her that wicked smile one more time before answering, “I’m taking you dancing.”

 

“Okay, it doesn’t seem like you’re quite getting it yet,” Tom was saying to Sammy as he watched her practice her stance on the tennis court. He was crossing his arms in front of her, holding his own racket. “And I really wish you would because I’d like to get a quick match in before we go back to the hotel.”

“If you wanted to get a quick match in, you should have signed up to play with someone before we got here,” she retorted, still trying to practice her backhand swing. Everything else had been a piece of cake, but the backhand needed some work. For the most part, Tom knew she was picking up on it and was just trying to polish her up. She knew he was just anxious to actually play, but she wasn’t quite comfortable yet.

“Why would I do that when I want to play with you?” he asked, giving her a little wink. As sweet as it was that he wanted to wait for her, she knew he was growing impatient. The more impatient he got, the more uncomfortable she got.

“You do realize that once we start playing, I’m going to be so bad that it’s going to be just as, if not more frustrating for you than it is now, right?” she said, standing up straight, letting the racket hang down at her side.

“I’m not frustrated,” he stated, then frowned a little. “Do I seem frustrated?”

She shrugged. “You seem like you’re losing your patience with me.”

“No, love, you’re misunderstanding,” he said, giving her that wide grin again, walking over to her. “I’m just excited for you to learn,” he moved to get behind her, sliding his right hand down her arm somewhat seductively as he laid his fingers over hers. He did the same thing with her left hand and brought them together to clutch the racket, and turned his body with hers, showing her how to hit the ball. Whatever he was teaching her was going to go right out the window. Sammy was too distracted by his close proximity to pay attention to anything he was saying. She knew he was starting to get distracted as well when she felt his excitement pressed up against her.

“You’re going to have to stop this soon or tennis is not the only match we’ll be having,” she purred, practically ready to drop the racket and ravage him on the spot.

He chuckled in her ear, his voice husky as he said, “I can’t back away from you just yet, dear. I’m rather… obvious right now.”

She laughed at him. “And yet, if you stay where you are it’ll just get worse,” she said, shaking her head. “What a dilemma.”

“It would appear so,” he said, burying his face into her neck, smiling as he subtly nibbled at her ear. She felt the goosebumps spread all the way down her arms at this, her entire body responding to the contact. He was being an incredible tease and she wanted to make him pay for this torture. He dropped his hands from hers and wrapped them around her waist, rubbing her and finally bending and resting his head on her shoulder. He sighed heavily and she rested her head against his. “I love this,” he said quietly, the sensual touching subsiding for a moment as they merely stood and held one another.

“This is perfect,” she replied. “This is everything.”

“You’re everything,” he said, pressing his lips against her neck and closing his eyes.

Sammy wanted to tell him she loved him, because the moment was right, but for some reason, she couldn’t seem to bring the words to her lips. There was still something keeping her from emoting as she saw fit, and she knew it had to do with the fact that after the next forty-eight hours there was a chance she may never see Tom again.

Her heart hurt at the thought of this, and she took a deep breath that caught in her throat. Tom heard it immediately, and raised his head from her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, trying to look away from him. He stood back a little, turning her in his arms so that she was facing him. He put his fingers under chin and guided her eyes back to his. He was concerned, and Sammy tried not to turn into a weepy mess for the millionth time since they’d met. She was afraid he was going to get sick of her melodrama and toss her to the curb any moment. No matter what, she had to maintain.

“You have to stop this,” he told her, taking her hands in his, bringing them up to his lips, and kissing them a few times. “I know our time together is short, but I want to make every moment of it count. I can’t have you constantly worrying about the future. Be with me here, in the present. Please?”

She couldn’t deny the sweet look in his eye for a second longer. She had to give in each and every time. She was sure he was starting to catch on to what looks made her completely weak. She wondered if he would always remember something like that. He had actually made it so that he reserved one look just for her, and she adored it. As she gazed at him, she saw his face set into her look right then, and she was elated. He was delectable.

“All right,” she conceded. “I promise I’ll try not to let it get to me, okay?”

“Good,” he said, and bent forward and quickly encompassed her mouth, giving her a desperate and anxious kiss, one that so easily told her that even though he spoke the words to soothe her fears, he felt them just as deeply as she did. She understood, clutching the skin of his arms, never wanting to let go.

After they broke apart, he gathered her into his arms and gave her one of his warm embraces, squeezing her tightly and telling her he needed her more than anything without a single spoken word. She knew that she was safe in his arms, wanted, needed, loved, and always, always at home.

And she lost her fear the moment she realized she would never truly lose Tom. It didn’t matter how long they were apart, whether it was one day or one hundred years, they’d eventually find each other. She wasn’t much of a believer in an afterlife of any kind, but with Tom, she knew it was possible. If they couldn’t be together in this life she knew they’d come together in the next. Maybe then they wouldn’t have any trouble and they’d get to be together. Maybe it would be easy, no circumstances tearing them apart. After all, they were learning a lot in this life, surely they had to have earned happiness somewhere down the line.

Sammy raised a hand up to Tom’s hair, running her fingers through it and thinking to herself just how soft it was when he didn’t have any product in it to control the curls. She let the individual tendrils wrap around her fingers, loving everything about him with no more trepidation.

“I love you so much,” she said breathlessly, the words stored up for so long that they were dying to be removed from her tongue. It felt good.

He lifted his head up and gave her a gorgeous smirk, the laugh lines around his eyes prominent as he gazed down at her. For some reason, seeing them made her knees weak even though most would consider it an imperfection. It just made Tom that much more beautiful and real to her. The notion of him being a popular celebrity was long forgotten. It was only when they talked about their careers or came face to face with adoring fans that Sammy seemed to remember, and she liked it that way. He would forever be Tom now, the man she would never overcome.

“I think it’s time to get back to your tennis lesson,” he said to her, suddenly gazing around. “It appears that the courts are a bit backed up.” He peered back down at her, her own precious look crossing his face. “Unless you’d like to call it quits and have dinner with me?”

Above all things she wanted Tom to be happy, and she knew that he was excited to teach her how to play tennis. She shook her head, “Whatever you’d like to do. I know you wanted to play a match.”

He shook his head, his eyes twinkling brightly. “I’m not really in the mood to share you with anyone else right now.”

“You’re so romantic,” she told him.

“I speak the truth,” he said, and with one fell swoop wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her to his lips. “I just want to hide you away right now.”

“That sounds great,” Sammy said, and truthfully it did. As much as it was a part of Tom’s career, she just didn’t have the patience for him to battle numerous fans begging for photos and autographs right now. They were still planning on going out dancing tonight, so she wanted as much time alone with him as she could get.

“Come on then,” he said, taking her hand in his and guiding her off the court. He grabbed his sunglasses from his shirt and put them on, keeping his head down as much as possible. He pulled her close then, still holding to her hand tightly. They escaped without incident and made it back to the hotel in record time to have dinner together.

As they settled into a very private booth in the back of the restaurant in the hotel, Sammy knew that they couldn’t avoid being discovered forever. Up until the day before, Tom had been as discreet as possible when he was out with her, not counting their shared slow dance in the Gaslamp. Today had been so much different because of what happened on the beach. It was as though Tom had forgotten that the whole world didn’t know, or didn’t care. And while that sentiment warmed Sammy to the very bottom of her heart, she knew that it was risky behavior. At some point, their luck was going to run out.

She didn’t want to voice this to Tom though. She was far too content with his affection, wrapped up in the fact that they had so little time to express it to one another. She also didn’t want to worry him, because not only would that cause unnecessary stress but he’d also know that she was still thinking about the future instead of ‘living in the present.’ At only thirty-one years old, Tom was amazingly profound and wise beyond his years. She didn’t know if that was a product of his raising and education, or if he was truly an old soul. She liked to assume it was both.

So for the moment she let it go, and for the rest of the night she tried her hardest not to worry about what was going to happen. In fact, during dinner, she started to get a little excited at the prospect of Tom taking her out to dance. This meant a lot of body contact, sweating, and blood pumping. She had to admit that she was also kind of anxious to see how well Tom could dance.

Sammy eased back into the present, grinning widely at Tom and letting her guard down completely. He stopped what he was saying mid-sentence and arched his right eyebrow at her.

“Why are you smiling like a loon?” he said, an equally goofy grin spreading across his face. Sammy loved how infectious this feeling was.

“It’s nothing, really,” she told him, putting an elbow on the table and resting her head in her hand. She wanted to go into full ‘swoon’ mode while he spoke. “I’m just enjoying your company.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. His brows knit together a bit, the smile fading a little. His eyes grew intense and he simply said, “I love you, Samantha.”

It was her turn to stay quiet. She just stared at him, loving the way those words sounded coming from his perfect pink lips. She wanted to let him know that she was okay with what was happening, so she changed the subject quickly and the conversation started back up.

Over the course of the meal, Tom and Sammy let the night happen around them, excited about their plans and forgetting that there was anything that would ever keep them apart. For now, they weren’t going to spend only two more days together. He wasn’t Tom Hiddleston, international celebrity and fan girl favorite, and she wasn’t Sammy Chance, heartbroken divorcee and struggling writer. They were Samantha and Tom, two people that were so truly, madly, deeply in love with each other that they had thrown all caution to the wind, forgetting about anything else that could affect them.

It was a careless action that they would regret by the end of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. The 'Present Day' chapters are where all the action is now :) Regardless, a little fluff is fun!


	13. Present Day

Present Day

I have an unbelievable urge to vomit as I stand here, facing Tom. It feels like an eternity since I confessed out loud that Emma is his daughter, and he has remained silent ever since. In actuality, it has probably only been about five minutes, but in terms of silence and anxiety, it is an awfully long time.

It is killing me to have him this silent and angry. I hadn’t expected silence. I had hoped for screaming, crying, anger, fury, sadness, pain, and hurt all at once. This expressionless stoic quiet is driving me crazy. I need to know what he is thinking and what he plans to do. Now that I have told him and he knows the truth, is he going to turn his back on his daughter out of his anger for me? Is he going to want to be in her life if I’m involved in it at all?

I wish I knew, but he is remaining agonizingly silent.

After another minute, I can’t take it anymore. I have to think of Emma first. If this is going to end anytime soon, I have to get it rolling because I’m sure my daughter is starting to get restless. I finally find the courage within me to speak.

“Tom?” is all I can muster right now. His eyes flick up to me and the intense emotions I see there immediately cause tears to form at my eyes and pour down my cheeks. I see every single feeling I thought he would have and then some. There is longing, regret, depression, loss, and so much more. I wish I could get him to talk. “Tom, will you please say something?”

I can see the clenching in his jaw, the way he wants to scream and lash out but chooses not to. Tom doesn’t believe in screaming at women, especially ones that he’s known as intimately as he knows me. Somehow, though, I kind of wish he would.   
I feel Emma start grabbing at my pants eagerly. My time has run out and Tom is still not talking.

“What is it, baby?” I ask Emma, turning my attention away from Tom for now. If he’s not going to say anything right now, I’m not going to try and force it out of him anymore. “I’m talking to Tom right now.”

“I’m hungry, mommy,” she says. Her big brown eyes are staring at me imploringly and I suddenly feel a very deep hurt starting in my heart. I know she is not hungry because she ate less than an hour ago. She is, however, immensely uncomfortable, picking up on the tension between Tom and me, and for that, I am incredibly ashamed, mad at myself for exposing her to it.

“Okay, baby, I’ll take you inside and grab you something real quick. Maybe you and Zach can watch a movie or something. Right, Zach?” I say, glaring at my ex-husband. I am so furious with him for causing this. Admittedly, though, if there is any blame to be placed it is on my shoulders, but I would not have chosen to do it this way.

Tom finally moves a bit, and for one horrifying second I am sure he is about to insist that he just leave and dart off, but he doesn’t. Instead he shoves his hands in his pockets and practically growls, “Why don’t we let Zach leave and I’ll just come in with you.” It is not a question. It is a statement. And the only thing I can do is comply, since I want him to stay and talk to me about this.

Zach gives me a short smile, not even bothering to say a word before he dashes off to his vehicle. I don’t want to say anything to him. He knows how angry I am with him and how right now I really just don’t have the patience or will to fight with him anymore. He needs to be gone. I watch as he maneuvers out of his spot in the driveway, and once I am satisfied that he is on his way out, I turn to Tom, take Emma’s hand and say, “All right,” since it seems to be the only thing I can say, but we both know that nothing is all right.

Instead of waiting for Emma’s short legs to catch up to the pace I need to keep, I quickly grab her and throw her on my hip, walking swiftly into the house. I know Tom is behind me, his legs are nearly twice as long as mine so he is keeping up just fine. I don’t even bother looking back. The second we get into the house I set Emma down and walk her into the kitchen, not caring whether or not Tom has chosen to be courteous and shut the door behind him or has forgotten in his anger. It doesn’t matter to me. I need to get Emma comfortable and happy before I can even think of returning to this conversation.

It doesn’t take long for that to be arranged. I tell her she has to go to her room for a little while until my friend leaves, and I know she wants to stay up and talk to this charming man with the funny accent, but I insist she go to her room. She doesn’t put up much of a fight, thankfully, and I feel bad because it’s probably due to the stress of the moment outside. Once she is in her room, I tell her I love her, kiss her on the cheeks, and leave the door open a crack.

Before I have to return to the living room, I take a moment to catch my breath. Everything has happened so quickly that I’ve barely had a second to take it all in. Tom is here. Tom! Crossing time, distance, and all of the other things that were keeping us apart, and he is now here. I can’t escape the fact that he came for me and now he may leave me just as easily for the mistakes I have made. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to face this, even though I knew that someday it would come.

The tears are now steadily pouring down my face. I know, somewhere, that things are about to get bad and I need to save this emotion. Right now I need to be strong. My decisions were right for me at the time, and I cannot continue to beat myself up over and over when the deed is done. So before I get too wrapped up in my thoughts again, I take one more deep breath and hope that it conjures some strength before I turn the corner and enter the living room.

I half expect Tom to either be gone or seated on the couch in that motionless silence again, but instead, I find him studying the pictures on my wall. He has one hand on his hip, the other resting in his hair. I suddenly remember that particular mannerism of Tom’s that I have all but forgotten over the years. It’s amazing the things you remember and the things you just completely lose.

He is still staring at the wall, and after a second, I see him turn and spot the small shadowbox I put together when Emma was first born. It has her birth announcement, her very first picture taken at the hospital, fabric pieced together from some of her old baby clothes, and a picture of me holding her in the hospital only minutes after she was born. Tom still hasn’t noticed that I am in the room, but I can see his face now. The most inexplicable emotions cross his face as he stares at it, and I watch as he absently picks his hand up, touching the frame of the shadowbox, as though trying to absorb the memories in that box that he missed out on. My damaged heart begins to shatter as his face takes on that pained expression I have always hated, the loss in his eyes so prevalent that I am transported back in time to the moment we had to say goodbye.

After another couple seconds I feel a little uncomfortable, so I sigh a little, announcing my presence, and step into the room. Tom’s hand drops immediately to his side and he looks over at me, his brow still furrowed in anger, but the pain still shining in his eyes. I sit down on my couch and indicate that he should sit as well. He opts to sit in the chair across the room, and I can’t say that I blame him. I wouldn’t want to be near me right now, either.

I sit and wait, expecting to play another game of silent chicken with him, feeling the stress of having to speak first weighing in the pit of my stomach. I even find myself hoping for a moment that no one ever says anything, but before my wishes can be fulfilled, Tom stirs a little and finally speaks, cutting the tense silence in half sharply and making the room feel oddly cold.

“How long did you really think you could keep this from me, Samantha?” is the first thing he chooses to ask me. Instead of giving into any other emotion, he is sticking with the anger. It serves as a very effective shield, as I cannot tell what he is thinking, even the tiniest bit.

My brain is screaming at me to answer him, because if anything’s going to get figured out, I have to be willing to communicate, but my heart just doesn’t know how to speak anymore. I can’t articulate a good enough response to this question, because all of a sudden, all the reasons I originally had have been forgotten or abandoned. I am left with no reasonable explanation and I find myself fighting the urge to throw myself on the floor, begging his forgiveness. It would do no one any good if I acted so weak and desperate.

“I didn’t think I could keep it from you forever, Tom,” I explain to him, my voice so low and breathy that I am surprised that he can hear me at all. I gather the bits and pieces of my courage and try to speak without losing my resolve completely. “I had my reasons for not telling you…” is all I can even think to say to him. What else can I do to assure him that I didn’t just do it because I’m that inconsiderate?

“Oh, I’d love to hear that,” he says in a low, angry tone. The first association I make in my head is that it sounds dangerously like his ‘villain voice.’ “I have to say, I don’t know that I believe any reason would even matter, given the circumstances.”

I want to remain as guarded and submissive as I can, because in a way, Tom is right. Then again, he is reminding me of Zach an awful lot right at this moment, taking no time in dismissing my reasons for my decision, acting as if they bear no consequence. I feel myself start to get very, very angry. How dare they? How dare Tom? I know Zach is capable of that kind of ignorance, but I honestly thought that Tom was above it, or at least could get past the anger to see that maybe there was a good reason for me doing what I did.

Where the hell did this guy get off? After all, he wasn’t the one who had to deal with a pregnancy alone, carrying a child for nine months and then facing the inevitable reality of raising said child alone. It certainly doesn’t help when your child is half of the person who completes your entire universe that you just cannot have. What does he know about what I went through? Who is he to say that none of that mattered or is of any consequence?

All at once, I am sick to death of these men trying to force their judgment down my throat and I grow a backbone. I furrow my brow, pop up from the couch, hands on my hips, and I drastically change the tone to my voice when I start speaking.

“You have no right to tell me that my reasons don’t matter,” I seethe through clenched teeth. He is rather taken aback at my turn in attitude, like he is surprised I have the nerve to stand up to him when I should be begging for forgiveness. “No right at all. Maybe it wasn’t the most advisable thing to do at the time and maybe, looking back on it, I see all the mistakes I’ve made and I might have changed something. But you know what, Tom? It’s done. I certainly can’t go back in time and fix it, but I do know that at the time, I did what I thought was best for everyone involved.”

“You have got to be taking a piss,” he says, standing up out of the chair now. He is less furious with me now but more agitated and annoyed with the fact that I am refusing to take my lashes sitting down.

“Nope, no piss taking here,” I spit back at him, rolling my eyes.

He runs his hands through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his lips tightly together, as though he is holding back a million things that he wants to say. “You’re telling me you really believe that not telling me that there was a child was the best? For me? For you? For… her?” he says, choking on his words as he indicates in the general direction of Emma’s room. My heart skips a beat. “You think not telling me for years was doing what, exactly?” he stops as he demands the answer to this last bit, his arms crossed in front of his chest defiantly, his eyes boring into mine with a fire and intensity that I have never seen directed at me in anger. I feel as though I may burst into flames under his gaze if I don’t answer quickly.

“Are you kidding me? I was protecting you,” I tell him, and he scoffs, giving a little laugh at this, as though it is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “What do you think it would have done to your career for people to find out there was a crazy woman out there, claiming to be pregnant with your baby? That can ruin careers, especially when you’re a serious actor.”

Tom’s eyes are so dark right now that I don’t even have a clue as to what he may be thinking. He has heard every word, taking it in, but still, he is unreadable. “Is that what you think is most important to me?”

I see the hidden emotion then. Tom is disappointed and hurt by my assumption. I can’t blame him for that, but I don’t want to back down either, so I pedal faster forward with my steel determination.

I open my mouth to speak, but know that I can’t lie to him and say that yes, I do believe that would have been more important because I don’t. “All I know is, Tom, you and I made an agreement that we were going to be together for one week, and one week only,” I tell him, gulping past the lump in my throat as a barrage of memories plague my mind. I see and feel everything all over again in that instant. “We never discussed seeing each other again, if and when that would ever happen.”

“That’s not fair, Samantha,” he says, his eyes haunted and his expression desperate. I assume the memories must be tormenting him as well because I feel as though the anger he’s directed at me has dissipated in the wake of these new emotions. “The moment you knew, you should have told me.”

“How?” I ask vehemently. I want to raise my voice and shout at him, but Emma is in the next room and I don’t want her hearing this. It is not her job to hear something that would make her worry about me. “How was I supposed to get a hold of you, Tom? I had your phone number,” I tell him, closing my eyes as I start to recall those first few weeks after we parted ways. It was before I knew I was pregnant and I did get to a low point one night, consuming an entire bottle of wine (let me once again stress that I did not know I was pregnant yet) and picking up my phone to call Tom. I didn’t even know where in the world he was and didn’t care. I definitely should have, because it was relatively late in California, which meant that if he was in London, I would have been calling him insanely early in the morning. It was irrelevant, though, because his number had been disconnected.

I remember the pain I felt in that moment and the way I was depressed for the next three days, thinking that Tom had done this to avoid contact with me. Molly was the one who made sure to point out that celebrities frequently have to change their contact information and that I shouldn’t take it personally at all. Eventually, I understood that logic of that statement and recovered, but also well aware that this was probably the end of the line for my direct line to Tom.

“I tried calling you once,” I confess to him finally, glancing away from him, embarrassed at this admission. “Your number was disconnected and I assumed you didn’t want to have contact with me, since I had nothing else. You may sometimes just think of yourself as regular Tom, but you’re not regular Tom. Celebrities and movie stars aren’t exactly easy for us regular people to get a hold of.”

He purses his lips slightly at this comment, but I can see the shadows that pass over his face after telling him that I tried to get a hold of him. He chooses to ignore all of these and huffs as he responds, “Well, regardless, I’m sure there was a way.”

“Okay, you go ahead and assume that all you want,” I tell him, throwing my hands up in the air. “The whole point I’m trying to make is that I don’t think you should be sitting here, trying to make me feel horrible for something that I thought was best at the time.”

“It’s not about making you feel bad,” he says, finally moving from his spot to pace back and forth. He is eagerly avoiding my gaze right now. The rough edges around his voice have softened a little bit as well. “I don’t think that will accomplish anything.” At least there’s that. It seems Tom has maintained some of his compassion. “I just… I just want to know why.”

How can I answer that and give him an answer that will satisfy him at the same time? It’s most likely impossible. He’s not going to be happy with me at all anytime soon.

“There are so many reasons why, Tom,” I whisper.

“That is NOT an answer,” he says forcefully but still managing to keep his voice down. I don’t know if he’s doing it for Emma’s sake, or if it’s because he’s a man that just naturally doesn’t shout. “There are so many reasons for you to have told me as well.”

“You weren’t there, you don’t understand – ” I start, my voice getting a sharper edge to it now.

He cuts me off, “Maybe I don’t fucking understand because you didn’t bother to tell me you were pregnant to begin with!” Again, his voice is quiet, but it doesn’t need to be loud for me to hear every single nuance of his fury. He runs his hands through his hair, linking his fingers and standing for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, facing the wall, silent. A beat later, he opens his eyes and turns to me, aggressive. “Then, I would have at least had a choice about how I could feel now. This secret… this huge secret is not only a betrayal and such a hurtful injustice, but it also goes against everything we agreed on when we were together…”

I lift my head up and stare at him imploringly. This is the first time he has mentioned our past at all, and I want to gauge his reaction. He appears to be broken up about it, but continues on. “You promised me you would always be honest with me.”

The tears spring to my eyes. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that the moment I found out and debated on telling him. I should have remembered that honesty was not a pick-and-choose kind of thing. The sadness and torment I’ve caused hangs in the air, hovering around me and making my body weary. A cold wet tear breaks the barrier and falls down my cheek slowly. It’s there, but I vow to not let anymore sneak past. “I know I did.”

“Why did you break that promise to me? Why?” he says, and then turns to the portraits on the wall. He points angrily at one of Emma’s baby pictures and then glares back at me. “Don’t you think I wanted to be here for all of this, wanted to watch my… my daughter grow up? You think that none of that matters to me, that I shouldn’t have a say in anything?” Tom whipped back around to the wall, his back to me now, but his voice as clear as day. “Fucking hell, Samantha, you know… you know that I would have done the right thing. I would have been there, I would have been involved, no matter what my career or anything else dictated,” he is saying and I feel as though I’ve been slapped. He’s talking about Emma like she was an obligation, something that had to be ‘dealt with’ versus loved and cherished. I so badly want to just boot him out of the house, but I know I can’t do that. After all, he’s my daughter’s father and he deserves at least a moment of consideration before he pisses me off past the breaking point.

“I still can’t change it, Tom!” I say.

“Don’t you think I’ve realized that by now?” he says, and his voice is so sad I can’t contradict what he’s saying. My voice is hitched behind the emotion welling in my throat again. Another tear sneaks down my cheek. “Why do you think I am so damned angry with you?” he turns then, stepping toward me, his eyes shining brightly, his eyebrows turned up in confusion. “I would have wanted to be there, Samantha, I wanted to know! You think I-I wanted to go four years, not knowing what you and I… that you were… without knowing my own… without knowing about her? Without being able to-to watch her grow, be there every step of the way to guide her through, and give her everything and cherish her and… and just… just love her?”

I cannot speak right now. The tears are now flowing freely down my cheek and my mouth is slightly parted. I want to say something, but I definitely know that nothing is going to come out. As Tom has been telling me all of this, his own strong, angry demeanor is crumbling. His eyes are brimming with his own haze of tears, and he is stubbornly refusing to let them fall. His entire face is twisted into pain and I sob audibly as he stops, breathing shakily, his chest heaving. I feel as though we are on the brink of something very dangerous.

We are close to falling into one another again. I can feel it, and I know he can feel it as well. I wasn’t wrong about being able to read him emotionally, because now that he’s here, we are sharing every single sensation and feeling them twice as hard. The defensive walls are falling now, and only the raw wound of this reunion is showing. Our softer emotions will get the better of us, we will succumb to it, and possibly do something that we are not quite ready for yet. It is something we have to ignore right now, with so many more pressing matters at hand.

Tom and I stand here in this stalemate, silent and emotional. My cheeks are flooded with tears, my eyes already red-rimmed and puffy. I am shaky and slightly lightheaded, the intensity of this moment making me quite unsteady. Tom’s will has lost the battle against his tears, and with the silent fracturing of my heart, I watch two pristine tears fall down his beautiful face. I resist the insane urge I have to walk up to him and wipe them away.

“I don’t know what made you think you could do all of this alone.” His voice is low and gravelly, making the stretched silence seem that much louder.

“I have done it all alone,” I tell him once I can speak. “And I will continue to, if I have to.”

Tom nods but looks deeply troubled. I want him to assure me that I won’t have to, that he is going to be there, and that above all of this, he might be able to find it in his heart to forgive me. I have no expectations that we can pick up where we left off romantically. Now, it’s all about Emma, and that saddens me. “I suppose we’ll have to discuss that a bit later,” he says, sounding resigned and exhausted. “After all, you don’t really seem to need me, if you insist to do all of this by yourself.”

“You were just as much a part of that relationship as I was, Tom,” I whisper. He seems to think that I am going to kick him to the curb without ever letting him spend time with my daughter. I am angry, confused, hurt, ashamed, embarrassed, and full of regret, but I’m not spiteful. Tom just doesn’t understand what it took to bring Emma into this world without him, and he never will. He will never understand my sacrifice, because he didn’t have to make it. I close my eyes briefly and take a deep breath before I say, “The only difference is you were the one that got to walk away from it, not carrying something with you that would forever remind you of something we couldn’t have. You don’t get to judge me, Tom. You just don’t.”

His eyes narrow at this comment, taking it in and digesting it. He doesn’t move an inch as he whispers back hoarsely, “If you really think that after what we shared I didn’t walk away with a little piece of you still in my soul, then maybe you didn’t really know me at all.”

I feel a fresh wave of tears fall and as I stare at Tom, I suspect that he is ready to leave. As much as I’d love for us to make everything okay before he walks out, I know that rationally it is the best decision we can make right now. He is exhausted from this ordeal as well as me. I’ve had to deal with two angry men and a confused four year old today, so I really need a moment to step back and gather my bearings.

“Perhaps it’s time for me to go,” he says quietly, and despite what has just run through my brain (and the fact that he has inexplicably read my thoughts for the second time in this conversation alone), I am slightly crushed to hear the words come from his mouth. What I wouldn’t give for just another few seconds of that initial excitement… Now I realize, with a heavy heart, that the last time we held each other in California five years ago may have been the absolute last time I will ever be in his arms again.

“Maybe that’s best,” I tell him. I don’t know if he’s staying in town or has any intention of even calling me again after this. After what he’s said about Emma, I assume he would like to keep in touch. I am very confused about all of this as we turn to the door and I proceed to escort him out.

Just as we’re at the door he turns back, his face impassive but his eyes still twisted in pain. “I should let you know that I will be around for another few days and I’d like to get together sometime to discuss… well, what we’re going to do.”

I expect to feel relief, but I don’t. I am just more scared about what is going to happen. “All right. I can meet you tomorrow, I’ll just have to find a babysitter for Emma.”

Something flashes in his bright blue-green eyes, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. “Tomorrow it is. I’ll ring you around noon and let you know where to meet me. Will that work?”

I frown. “You don’t have my number, how can you call me?”

He sighs, and looks away, a wry smile crossing his face as he answers, “Your friend was most accommodating with a lot of different details,” he tells me.

My eyes widen. “Molly helped you with all of this?”

“Indeed,” he says, that smile still playing on his lips. “I contacted her on Facebook, asked her for help in surprising you since I was going to be here so soon,” he explains. He appears almost regretful at having made these arrangements. “I thought it would be nice to surprise you,” he stares down at a spot on the ground, sadness darkening his features. “I had assumed things would go a bit differently.”

There is so much extra information in my head that I have to process now, and I don’t have any qualms about Tom leaving. I need room to breathe, figure out what was going on here beneath the surface of the situation, and why Molly was involved in it.

“All right,” I say, wrapping things up. The sooner he is out of here, the better. I can settle down, have some time to think, and I also won’t be standing here, so anxiously torn between feeling the emotions of anger and fury at a man who wasn’t there for me all the years I needed him and still loving this man so desperately that all I want to do right now is erase the worry and pain from his heart. I am a weak woman, physically. I haven’t allowed anyone to be intimate with me since the last time I was with Tom, so my hormones are long denied neglected. It seems cruel now to be so near this man and not have the mental ability to embrace him. “I’ll wait for your call around noon tomorrow and we’ll talk.”

Tom nods, the sparks in his eyes causing my heart to jump for the millionth time that day. I know as soon as he is out of the house I am going to crumple against the door and not want to move for the rest of the night. His lips are thin and angry, but they still look as sweet and kissable as they always did. I want to reach out to him, graze my fingertips along his jawline, feel his hand upon my cheek again… but I am living in a fantasy. Reality is much too harsh for any of our fairy tale of yesterday.

“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, then,” he says, and without further ado, he opens the door and steps out onto the porch swiftly. I know that he has done this as quickly as he can because if he lingers any longer in here he won’t ever leave.

He stands on the porch for a moment before descending the steps and turns slightly to look over his shoulder at me. We both know that we need a moment to decipher everything, but amidst all the anger and confusion that this reunion has brought us, Tom still takes a single moment to soften his features, arrange his expression, and brighten his eyes and show me the one thing I’ve been dying to see since I saw him earlier.

My look.


	14. Five Years Ago: Day Five

Five Years Ago: Day Five

Tom was starting to get a little uneasy and Sammy was nervous for him. They were having such a fantastic day together that she couldn’t understand what was making him so tense. Everything had been okay until they made their way down to dinner and Tom had been stopped several times in between the elevator and the front door of the restaurant, and he was taking it in stride, but Sammy had an idea that it was the thing weighing on him. Once they were seated, the hostess had even asked for an autograph. Tom was always the consummate professional, smiling widely, asking who to make it out to, and thanking the person asking for watching and being a fan. It warmed Sammy’s heart because she knew deep down how he was really feeling.

The strangest thing was starting to happen to Sammy, and she had recognized it during the day yesterday, before they had even said they loved one another. She was beginning to feel as though something inside of her had a link to Tom’s feelings, like they could communicate without speaking when it came to how they were feeling. It was how Sammy knew that Tom wanted to tell her he loved her, it was how she knew that the rest of her life would be forever changed by this man, and it was how she knew what he was feeling like right now. It was weak at first, a subtle hint of what she thought Tom may have been going through. Sammy found herself shrugging it off, but with each passing second in his presence, the feelings were stronger and much more accurate.

It was just one more incredible, special thing that was going to make it impossible for her to ever get over this man.

Things had relaxed once they sat down and started eating. When their server had come up, Sammy could tell he knew who Tom was, but instead of giving in, he went on about his business and tried not to bother them. For that, they were both grateful, but Sammy was still noticing Tom’s slight agitation.

“What is going on?” she asked finally, unable to keep silent any longer. “You’re on the edge of your seat, why don’t you just relax?”

He gave her a wide smile, laughing a bit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize you could tell. I was trying not to be obvious.”

She frowned deeply. “Of course I can tell. What’s wrong?”

Tom’s bright sea blue eyes shifted all over the restaurant for a second, as though checking to make sure no one was listening. Sammy couldn’t help but peer out over the layout as well, anxious to put his mind to rest. She didn’t see anyone. He looked back at her and the tension in his face relaxed after a moment of staring into her. Sammy felt her heart warm at this expression, something so incredibly sweet and perfect and it was all for her.

“I just feel as though our good fortune is running out,” he said, leaning over the table to say this quietly.

“What do you mean?” she asked, leaning toward him as well, slightly amused at his conspiratorial tone.

“We’ve been pretty fortunate so far,” he explained. “We haven’t had any incidents with photographers or anything like that, mostly it’s just been fans.”

“Okay. And why are you so worried about it?”

He took a deep breath and leaned in even closer, taking Sammy’s hands in his. He peered up into her dark eyes and managed another small, sweet smile. “Really, I don’t want to share you with anyone,” he said, flashing his teeth a little bit as he gazed at her. “I don’t want what you and I have to be bastardized by the media.”

Sammy gave him a shy smile. There was no doubt in her mind that he loved her, and she hoped that she never doubted his feelings. The pained expression on his face, the low, anxious tone to his voice, the desperation in his eyes… he was in love with her. Unequivocally and without condition.

“Sweetheart, it will be all right,” she whispered to him, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “We’ve been lucky because we’ve also been discreet.”

“I know…” he said, relenting slightly.

“We’re not being obvious about being together, we’re not making anyone think that there’s something going on. Let’s just enjoy ourselves while we have the time,” she told him, finding it funny that she was repeating his words right back to them. That was what a good relationship was, though, wasn’t it? It was all about give and take.

He sighed a little bit, closing his eyes and calming himself down. Sammy was grateful, since she didn’t want him to spend the rest of the night upset about something that hadn’t even happened yet. Now she understood why he was constantly pulling her out of the fog of sadness that would descend when she thought about letting him go.

“All right, love,” he flashed a big grin and sat back.

They were almost ready to pay for the meal and Sammy couldn’t take her mind off of Tom. He said he was okay, but she didn’t think he really was. She certainly didn’t feel it honestly, but if he was going to choose to ignore it, she would comply with what he was doing.

After they left the restaurant they headed back up to Sammy’s room. It was still relatively early in the night, but she was anxious to start getting ready so that they could go out. She was holding Tom to his promise of taking her out dancing. She was incredibly excited, as this was a first for her. No one else had ever taken her out dancing, intent on actually hitting the floor with her. It was going to be quite a treat, seeing Tom in action.

Tom had very little to do when they got up to the room, so he elected to join her for a quick shower while she waited for her curling iron to heat up. Before they knew it, the quick shower turned into a quickie and they both stepped out of the water, satiated and ready to get the rest of their night started.

Sammy wanted to make sure she didn’t take too long getting ready. One thing she had learned from her time with Zach was how to get ready in a timely fashion. Tom told her he’d prefer to get going sometime around ten, which gave her almost an hour. She knew that was more than enough time.

As she got to work on drying and styling her hair, Tom escaped into the other room to get changed before he had to come in and fix his hair. He planned to do that after she was finished getting ready, so she had full reign of the small bathroom while he kept himself occupied in the other room.

After she was satisfied that her hair was dry enough, she picked up the curling iron and started pulling out the small pieces of her hair that she would eventually throw into a messy but deliberately sexy deliberate up do. As she was doing this, Tom walked into the bathroom quickly, his phone ringing in his hand.

“Sorry, love, Chris is calling,” he said, indicating his phone, which had only the name ‘Hemsworth’ and a phone number on the front. She smiled a little bit. “I have to pop out and take it, d’you mind?”

“No, no, it’s totally fine,” she said, waving him off. He gave her a wink, a small kiss, and slid his phone on. “Hemsworth, you son of a bitch!” he declared, walking out of the room.

Sammy laughed to herself subtly and continued to focus on her hair. Tonight, she was going to finally let go like she had always been unable to. She was here, in San Diego, orphaned, divorced, and heartbroken, but inexplicably still incredibly, exhilaratingly happy. Was she supposed to meet Tom and know that the other half of her soul really did exist out there in the wilderness? If she wasn’t supposed to, she was damned lucky, because there was no question in her mind about Tom being her other half. This was altogether amazing, a good soft cushion for her to land on after a hard few years, if only for a moment in time. That was just fine.

Once she had the curls finished, she combed her fingers through her hair as she pushed the ends of her hair together, twisted it, and secured it in place with more than a few bobby pins to keep it in place. She didn’t do her hair very often but she certainly liked the effect when she did. She sprayed her coiffure with a good deal of hair spray to ensure that it would stay in place while she was out, dancing and sweating with Tom.

She turned to her makeup and started with the base, working her way out from there. She wanted to make it subtle but still incredibly unique, like the outfit she was wearing tonight. She’d found a gorgeous black party dress and was pairing it with a unique pair of stilettos, something that would set her apart but make her look and feel a bit classy. Not to mention it added about five inches, which helped when accompanied by a man that was twelve inches taller.

It wasn’t going to take Sammy very long to do her makeup at all, and she was beginning to wonder where Tom had run off to. She finally made it to her eye shadow and decided to go creative with it, making the colors reflect the vivacious color of her shoes. As soon as she started swiping the first dark pink onto her lid, the door opened back up and she commented without looking up, “I was wondering where you were!”

“I forgot that I had something and I wanted to bring it up for you,” he said, although Sammy could hardly hear what was going on. She still had the vacuous fan on overhead to clear out some of the humidity in the bathroom.

“Okay!” she shouted back, rolling her eyes. Men, on the whole, were easily distracted and it really didn’t matter what age, race, socioeconomic class or celebrity status. It was a fairly universal assumption. Sammy elected to not comment and merely finished her face, applied her deodorant and perfume, and decided she was satisfied with the end product. She shut the light off and headed out into the common area, ready to get dressed.

“It’ll take me like five minutes to get dressed but the bathroom is all yours – ” she stopped short when she finally looked up and saw that Tom was sitting, completely dressed and ready to go with an acoustic guitar in his lap. He was plucking at it, tuning it a bit, but was otherwise unaware of her attention until she ceased speaking. He looked up at her and gave her his wide, laughing grin as she stared quizzically at him. “What the hell is that?” she asked after taking him in. My, he was a pretty sight.

“Why it’s a Christmas tree,” he answered wryly, giving her a teasing grin.

“You think you’re so damned funny,” she said, shaking her head as she sat down on the bed next to him. “Where did it come from?”

“Well, I did have a few things left in my room,” he explained. “And my publicist is actually still staying in my old room, just until we leave California. So I left a few unnecessary items in there and decided that this particular item was no longer unnecessary.”

Sammy was touched that he felt the need to play her music, but she was still confused. “Why the hell would you have a guitar with you? I mean, I understand you play, but…”

“That’s just it, love,” he said, looking down at his fingers as he positioned themselves on the frets, “I play. It gets rather tedious being cooped up in a hotel room at night, so I usually bring something to help entertain me. This time, I wanted to make sure I had this. Quite a simple explanation, really.”

“I follow now,” she said, and scooted closer to him as he plucked a few chords. She watched him for a bit and then sighed. “You know, I’m not going to take that much longer, you didn’t have to go get something to keep you from being bored.”

He only gave her a sly smirk as though what she had said was utterly ridiculous and changed up the tempo of his music, starting to pluck out a tune that wasn’t familiar to Sammy right away. It took a moment but once Tom began singing, a wonderful, smoky melody giving voice to lyrics like, “Only love can make it rain,” and “On the dry and dusty road the nights we spend apart alone,” she recognized it.

He played for a couple of minutes for her, giving a new feeling of soul to this wonderful classic rock song, imbuing the words of Pete Townshend with a depth and love that Sammy knew was meant just for her. She had never been serenaded quite like this before, a man actually plucking out the music himself, specifically choosing a song just for her. There was something so sweet and simple about this gesture, like they were long time lovers with a lifetime of love and companionship to fall back on. Needless to say, it warmed her heart and soul.

Once he finished the song, she noticed that he looked incredibly embarrassed and he scratched his head absently, his eyes trying to find hers. He wasn’t much of a blusher, but she didn’t need to see his pink cheeks to know that he was putting himself out there and was uncomfortable for having done so.

“I hope you liked that,” was all he said, and before he had a chance to get up and escape, Sammy reached over, grabbing the collar of his deep blue shirt, pulling him in for a long, happy kiss. As they were locked together, he set the acoustic down and brought his hand to her cheek, pulling her in closer.

When they broke apart, she smiled at him, her eyes shining with so many unspoken emotions that she found it hard to speak. She didn’t have to, because Tom gently brushed the stray hair from her face and whispered, “I love you very much.”

She nuzzled her nose against his cheek and whispered back, “I love you,” and put her lips against his for another short, sweet kiss before they broke apart and got ready to go. Tom ran into the bathroom quickly and threw his hair together, shaved, and put on some cologne while Sammy slipped into her dress, pantyhose and shoes. When they finally saw each other before leaving, they were both taken aback for a moment.

“You are…” he paused, taking a step toward her and reaching his hand out, “you are absolutely breathtaking.”

She took his hand in hers and stepped closer to him, surveying the whole package. He was wearing his leather jacket and pants respectively, his hair slicked back into a controlled mess of curls at the back his head, his face clean shaven. He smelled intoxicating and was completely irresistible as she stepped closer to him, putting her head against his chest and winding her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she mumbled against him, and they kissed once more before leaving for the club.

They opted to take a cab to the club just in case they needed one, and on the way, Tom made a quick phone call, assuring that they had a discreet entrance into the club. He commented to Sammy that he just couldn’t take any chances, but she understood. She wanted to be supportive even though she was sure they would be fine.

Tom escorted Sammy into the club, his hand pressed firmly against the small of her back as he guided her in. Sammy was immediately excited, hearing the thundering bass coming from the inside of the club. It had been ages since she’d been out anywhere that sounded quite like this and she almost couldn’t contain her excitement.

Once they were in, they ordered a couple of drinks and sat together at the bar, sipping them and enjoying one another’s company before they were ready to hit the dance floor. Sammy wasn’t sure how Tom was feeling but she knew that she required at least two drinks before she had the courage to get down. She wanted to enjoy this intimate moment where they were just together, out in public, not worrying about anything. Tom seemed a little more relaxed as well, probably grateful that the club was so dimly lit. If Sammy didn’t know the contours of Tom’s face and body so well she would barely be able to recognize him, either.

He stepped closer to her after the finished their first round of drinks and leaned into her closely. She felt his heat penetrate her thin black dress as he pressed his lips up to her ear and whispered, “I want to press your body up against mine.”

A shiver ran through her and she spun around to peer up at him, her heavily made up eyes twinkling with a mix of adoration and arousal. He licked his bottom lip slowly, giving it a gentle nibble as he grinned at her seductively. Everything he was doing was so damned sensuous that getting him on the dance floor was merely an opening act. Without another thought, she stood up straight, grabbed the front of his jacket firmly in her fist, and gave him a very suggestive smirk. He happily followed her to the dance floor and before she had a chance to figure out how they were going to start, he grabbed her waist, spun her toward him, and pulled her so close that Sammy was well aware of how many inches were hidden beneath his zipper.

The music changed then, a pulsating beat that wound through the club and got everyone moving. Tom started rocking his hips in time with the music, his hands playful and roaming, grabbing and pulling to get her even closer, something that was just not possible. She hung onto the waistband of his pants, trying to get comfortable as he all but made love to her on the dance floor. He was insatiable and making her wish they were alone.

They danced through one song after the other. Sammy was sweaty and breathless but she didn’t even notice. All that mattered was this intensely physical time she spent with Tom. She couldn’t get over how amazing he was on the dance floor. He could sing, play guitar, act, dance, recite Shakespeare from memory, and was intelligent as well as sincere. What couldn’t this man do?

He took the opportunity then to smile his wide, mischievous grin as he spun her around, his hands planted firmly on her hips as he brought her back to him. Their height difference made this a great position and she took full advantage of it, finally having gained some confidence after fully understanding how Tom’s body responded to hers on the dance floor. It didn’t surprise her that they clicked so well this way since their sex was so phenomenal.

Sammy leaned herself against Tom’s chest, her hands rubbing his legs. She loved the way their hot, aching bodies mingled to this particular Usher song. Tom buried his face against her neck, giving her small, subtle kisses as his hands roamed across her hips and down across her lower abdomen. They were gently guiding her to follow his movements and she was more than happy to comply with him. He bent his knees slightly, accommodating her better, his fingers touching her so lightly right now that she felt her skin burning for him, the sheer need so strong she didn’t think she could contain herself much longer. She knew, of course, that he was feeling it as well. It didn’t take much to figure that out.

The beat changed and he kissed the nape of her neck one more time before turning her back around, his face flushed and his lips wet. He wiped the loose hair out of her face and smirked. “Having fun?” he yelled to her, not entirely audible over the music.

She nodded emphatically, and to prove her point, grabbed his ass and pulled him a bit closer. “You’re not getting tired on me, are you?” He widened his eyes slightly at her enthusiasm, shaking his head with that smirk still stretched across his lips. He responded only by grabbing her forcefully and moving his hips against hers, causing every nerve in her body to jump alive at the mere friction.

It went this way for some time that night. Every so often they stopped to go cool down and have another drink. They managed to grab a small table in the back for a time so that they could have a bit of privacy. Their action on the dance floor tonight was making them feel particularly frisky, so this stolen moment was necessary. Their previous thoughts of public affection and decency were forgotten in the dark light of the club. Sammy straddled Tom’s lap as he sat at the table, attached to his lips with her arms wound around his neck. His hands held no one place as they roamed all over her body, taking in the intensity of these kisses and enjoying every second of her.

After a few more hours, Sammy and Tom were both slightly tipsy and were starting to sweat through their clothes. Sammy loved her shoes but was starting to feel as though the edges of the vinyl were piercing her skin and choking the life out of her toes. She was ready to kick them off and get in bed with Tom back at the hotel. Tom, to his credit, was still raring to go but she knew he wanted to save up that energy for the fun they would have back in their room. So, begrudgingly, they decided it was time to go.

Tom called for a cab and came back to her at the small table they still managed to occupy. “It’ll be here pretty soon. I tried to tell him to pick us up around back but I don’t think he heard me. Hopefully we’ll be all right.”

“We will,” Sammy answered, giving him a tired smile.

“You’re so sexy,” he commented, staring down at her, his eyes sparkling. “And a fantastic dance partner, I might add.”

“Oh please, it was all you,” she told him, waving him off.

“I may have led but you followed awfully well,” his smile was glittering with a full set of pearly whites. Sammy felt her stomach do flip flops just staring at him.

“You’re the beautiful one,” she said then, reaching over and taking his hand in hers. “And I love you.”

“I love you,” he breathed, that intense flare in his eyes as he leaned over and gave her a passionate, loving kiss. They enjoyed the taste of one another’s lips until Tom’s phone started going off on the table and they had to break apart. He answered it quickly and within a few seconds, Sammy watched Tom’s face go from blissful to deeply concerned. He hung up the phone and the frown didn’t disappear from his face.

“What’s wrong?”

Tom took a deep breath before answering. “The cab is out front and apparently there’s also quite a crowd out there.”

Sammy’s heart hammered in her chest as she thought of how Tom must be feeling. “Are you all right?” she asked.

He didn’t say anything. He took her in his arms and held her tightly, as though the moment they stepped outside and into the mass of people he would lose her for good. She wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay but she didn’t really believe it herself.

A moment later Tom had retrieved her coat, helped her into it, and took her hand in his as they made their way to the front door. He gave her fingers another squeeze before they opened the door and were greeted with exactly what Tom had been dreading all day.

The flashes of the photographer’s cameras nearly blinded Sammy as they tried to make their way to the cab waiting for them at the curb. It was only a few feet away but the stretch felt as though it were miles long. Sammy didn’t know how to handle it, there was just too much of a commotion for her to focus on any one thing.

Tom squeezed her hand tightly, nearing the point of pain and she heard him whisper, “Keep your head down and do not let go of me.”

Sammy needed no further instruction. She kept her head down, away from the lights and as she had done all night, allowed Tom to lead. She knew he was trying to keep his head down as well, but he was so much taller than her that it was a little harder for him to be conspicuous. This wasn’t one of his red carpet arrivals, though, so she didn’t expect him to stop and hand out autographs or wave to the cameras. They headed straight to the cab and he opened the door for her, ushering her in and following after, shouting the name of their hotel as he shut the door behind them.

Once they were safely inside, Tom grasped Sammy’s hand and didn’t speak. She was so afraid of what he was going to say that she chose to remain silent until he was ready to say a word to her. But he was quiet the entire cab ride back to the hotel, his hand still firmly locked in place, absently stroking her hand with his thumb. She was comforted by this small token.

It wasn’t until they were at the hotel and safely secure in their room that Tom finally spoke. Sammy turned to ensure the door was closed and latched tightly and turned around, smacking right into Tom’s tall, solid form. She let out a gasp of surprise and instead of backing up, Tom merely wrapped his long arms around her and brought her in close.

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” he said, his face buried in her hair. “That made me very nervous.”

“It did?” she asked incredulously. “Don’t you deal with that kind of thing all the time?”

“I do, yes,” he said, lifting his head up to peer down into her face. “But you don’t, and I wasn’t sure if they were going to try to tear you apart. I was worried for you.”

“Well, I’m okay,” she assured him, running her fingers through his hair. “It was a little nerve racking but they seemed pretty tame.”

“Yes,” he breathed, kissing the crown of her head. “We did get lucky.”

“See? Nothing to worry about, I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re okay,” she said.

He nodded, his smile tense but his eyes softening as he stared down at her. “You’re really quite something, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” she said, giving him a shy smile. “Now, Mr. Hiddleston, I believe you owe me a dance,” and she nodded toward the bed.

All pretense of upset and anger fled Tom’s expression as the prospect of making love to her presented itself and he wasted no time taking advantage of this. Sammy fell into him completely, forgetting all of the discretions of the night and tried to empty her mind.

And yet there was still a nagging doubt in the back of her mind that somehow, someway, photographs of her and Tom together would eventually come back to haunt her.


	15. Present Day

Present Day

It has been an overly hectic morning. I woke up this morning and couldn’t get out of bed, remembering everything that had happened the night before. Forgetting everything else for the moment, I still could not make myself really accept the fact that Tom was back. After so much time, I had actually gotten the chance to lay eyes on him for the first time in five years. That, in itself, was a miracle.

The whirlwind of emotion hit me quite forcefully and it was hard to get out of bed for a while. I didn’t have to wait too long because I was joined by my beautiful daughter. She seemed to have an instinctive knowledge of whenever I woke, since she managed to crawl in bed as soon as I opened my eyes. I chose to ignore all the other crap on my mind and wrapped my arms around her, squeezing her to me as tightly as possible. I don’t want to lose her.

Before we got out of bed and started our day, Emma completely surprised me by asking about Tom. I knew that the day before had been slightly confusing for her, but she was four, and I didn’t actually expect any of it to stick. Hearing it come from her mouth was so much of a shock that I didn’t respond for a few seconds.

She asked me who the man with the funny accent was, and I was quite torn. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I couldn’t very well tell her the truth. That was something I was going to save for after Tom and I talked to one another. So instead, I told her it was an old friend of Mommy’s and that he might be seeing her again soon. This seemed to make her happy after I asked her. She then offered, “He sounds like a prince. Is he a prince, Mommy?”

That was a loaded question. Was he a prince? Essentially, he was my prince, my knight in shining armor, but that was a long time ago. Tom isn’t mine anymore and I don’t think he ever will be again. I wanted to tell her he was, because then maybe she would grow up thinking Tom had some other purpose in the world and she won’t be devastated or have any abandonment issues when she learns who he really is. I eventually decided to tell her that he wasn’t a prince, just a friend from a foreign land, and while it seemed to satisfy her curiosity, she still commented that he sounded like a prince.

I go around this morning, trying to get everything together so that when I go to meet Tom, it is a seamless process. I am in and out quickly so that Emma doesn’t have a need for me while I’m out. I have a list of babysitters for her, but instead of starting on that list, I decide to call Molly first.

She owes me big.

She picks up after the first ring and says with trepidation, “Hey, Sammy.”

“That’s all you have to say? What the hell, Molly?” I practically scream at her. Emma is working on her breakfast so I keep my voice down in the living room.

“I thought it would be a nice surprise for you. Was it?”

I remember suddenly that Molly wasn’t here last night and I certainly hadn’t called and told her what had gone on. As far as she knows, Tom is in bed with me right now. Then again, she had sent him over to my home. Surely she knew that my daughter would be here as well. How did she honestly think it would go?

“It went bad! I mean, what did you expect, Molly?” I say angrily.

“I’m really sorry,” she says, and she does sound sincere. “I really thought that maybe if you saw him then it would just kind of come naturally and everything would work out. After all, he did get a hold of me on Facebook, so what was I supposed to do? Tell him not to look you up? That would have been even more suspicious, he might have researched you on Facebook, put two and two together that way.”

She does have a point. I am grateful, if nothing else, that Tom was able to meet his daughter in person before I actually revealed the truth to his face. I am glad for that, but I am still angry because I wanted to choose it.

“Regardless,” I say to Molly, “it was thrown at me and I didn’t have a choice. I had to give him the explanation once he saw her. He figured it out the moment he saw her.”

“What did you expect? She looks just like him,” Molly scoffed.

“It doesn’t matter, Molly,” I seethe. “Emma is my daughter, and I should have been the one to choose when and where I told Tom the truth.”

“If you were even going to in the first place!” Molly shouts back. “You’ve been so all over the place about it that I really didn’t think you were ever going to!”

“Of course I was!” I say, knowing that I would have found the courage to eventually do it. “He was coming to Michigan in the first place, why wouldn’t I take the opportunity? I wanted him to know in person, but I just wanted to be able to control the situation.”

“Well, I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I am!”

“Good.” I pause a moment, catching my breath. “Now come over here and watch my kid.”

“What!”

I sigh. “Tom is supposed to be calling me here pretty soon and we’re going to get together, discuss some stuff. I need someone to watch Emma, and I figured you owe me.”

It was Molly’s turn to sigh. “Okay,” she says. “When do you need me to be there? I’ll have to make sure the shop is good.”

“They can survive without you for an hour,” I say flippantly. “I’m not sure when Tom is going to call me, so I can’t say definitively when you need –” and as I am saying this, my call waiting is beeping. I look at my phone and see that it is an unknown number. I frown. “I think he’s calling me right now, hold on a second,” I say to Molly before switching over. “Hello?”

“Samantha?”

Even after the argument, the fear of seeing him, and the lead weight in my stomach, Tom’s voice can still make my heart soar. I haven’t heard him say my full name in that lyrical voice in so, so long. I really want to just sit and enjoy it but I have to speak.

“Tom?” I whisper back to him.

A moment of silence passes. I expect he is having much the same reaction as me, but it doesn’t last forever. He speaks again. “Yes, I just wanted to make sure you were still available midday?”

“I am negotiating that right as we speak, actually,” I tell him, checking my watch. There are still a couple of hours left before I have to meet Tom, but I’d almost rather do it sooner.

“All right,” he says, and I can tell he’s a bit uneasy. He still doesn’t know how to broach the subject of Emma with me, and I can’t say that I blame him. Twenty-four hours ago he didn’t even know she existed.

“Molly is going to watch her for me,” I tell him, “and she can be here whenever I need her to be, so what time did you want to meet up?”

“Will an hour suffice?”

I can’t get over how cold and angry his voice sounds still. It’s not something I’m used to hearing from him. His voice saturated my brain when we were together that glorious week, and he was never, ever upset with me, not to this extent. It’s such a shock that it makes my stomach hurt to hear it.

“One hour. Where do you want to meet?”

“Well, where do you recommend? I’m not familiar with the area.”

“I can give you some suggestions, but I need to know what you’re looking for, I’m not the one requesting this meeting.”

I hear him sigh. “Samantha, how can I know what I want if you won’t bloody tell me? I don’t know where we could go for a little privacy, so you’ll have to tell me.”

I have the overwhelming urge to just slap him through the phone, but I manage to control myself and answer, “See? Privacy! That’s all I needed to know,” and I proceed to narrow down a short list in my head and describe each place to him. We finally settle on a hole in the wall bar down the street from me that usually doesn’t get much business during the day, even though they’re technically a ‘bar and grill.’ I hang up with him after we decide to meet in an hour and pick up with Molly.

“Sorry about that, it was Tom.”

“Oh, what did he have to say?”

“We’re going to meet in an hour if you can be here soon,” I tell her.

“I’m on my way,” she says, resigned. And then, “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

 

It took all the remaining strength and fortitude I had left to walk into that bar, but I did it. Once Molly arrived, I was able to take a quick shower, get ready, and head out the door. I arrived at the bar about ten minutes early and sat in my car, trying to calm my heart to a normal pace. I even tried leaning my seat back and meditating so that I could walk into this place and not have a total nervous breakdown.

Now, as I stand inside of the small, dark bar, I am hypersensitive to the fact that I am shaking. It might be a slight tremor, but it’s still there, and it is making me very unsteady. I am not comfortable having this conversation with Tom right now. I try over and over again to calm myself, but it’s not working and I doubt that it will. I have to just walk over to him, sit down, and begin this chat.

Unfortunately, I am having some trouble finding him.

As I stand in the doorway with my purse slung over one arm, my hands clasped around the straps so tightly I can feel the blood pounding in them. I feel like an idiot until a young blonde waitress walks over to me, a smile on her face as she reaches for a menu. “Is it just you?”

“Oh, the menu’s not necessary,” I say, shaking my head. There’s no way I could eat now even if I wanted to. “And I’m actually meeting someone, I’m not sure if he’s here yet.”

Her eyebrows raise and she turns around to survey the patrons. She turns back to me and says, “He’s not the really hot one with the sunglasses is he?”

“That’s probably him,” I say, not being able to deny the small smirk I feel on my face. Tom is still remaining discreet and I can’t say I blame him. There’s barely anyone in here, but this girl seems like she probably would have a working knowledge of who Tom may be.

I see her face fall slightly. I suspect she was hoping he was single. “I can take you back to him,” she steps away from me, indicating the back corner of the room. It’s then that I spot him and my heart jumps into my throat. Why, when I am trying to be so angry with him, is he so damned beautiful?

“That’s all right, I can find my way,” I tell her, not wanting her intrusion. The last thing we both need in this overly dramatic reunion is a squealing fan girl recognizing him. Then we would never get a moment of peace.

She does look slightly put out, but she walks away and allows me the space to have one more mini freak out before I start heading back to Tom. Luckily, he hasn’t noticed me yet, but that changes the moment I take a step toward him. For one brief, shining moment, our eyes lock and everything else is gone. All the anger, the frustration, the fighting, everything has vanished. Even the years we have been apart have seemingly disappeared into the nether as I am walking to him. It all slows down, and I remember that first meeting, our first kiss, the first time we slept together, the first time he told me he loved me, and our final goodbye… Everything flashes in front of me and I am struck with the inability to breathe. Tom’s eyes have softened as he gazes at me and I really feel like this is the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with in some alternate timeline.

It is not this timeline, though.

I finally approach the table and our moment has passed. Tom’s face is back to that cold, unfeeling steel and I am lost again. I simply give him a curt nod to show that I, too, can be as distant and angry as he is. After I sit, there is an immediate tense and confusing moment where we are both determined to be as mad at each other as possible but underneath the anger, hurt, and betrayal is an undeniable current of anxiety and desperation to cling to one another again, for all the years we lost together, regardless of what happened in the interim.

I find myself getting swept up in this pull of emotions. I want to get down to business and find out what Tom really wants, but I can’t help but think of all the possibilities of what could have been. Maybe if I had told Tom I was pregnant or maybe if he had come to me sooner, it would be different. What if we had found out we were expecting together? How happy would we be now? What other things could have happened to us?

“I’ve done some thinking,” he begins unceremoniously. He is sitting up in his seat now, his leather jacket creaking as he sits forward in the booth. This must be a new coat he’s wearing, I can still smell the leather. My heart races when I am suddenly catapulted to a moment when I was in his arms and I could smell the faint traces of his favorite coat, mingled with the masculine scent that was Tom. I come back to earth just in time to tune back in to what he’s saying. “I know, without a single doubt, that she is my daughter,” he says, gesturing out to me. “I wanted to bang that out quickly, so you knew there was no mistake about it. I…” he takes a deep breath and steadies himself before continuing, “I know she is because I can see it and I-I can feel it.” My breath hitches at the sound of his tone as he says this. It is sad and broken.

“Thank you, Tom,” I manage to whisper. I at least have this bit of trust from him, which is something.

“But I’ve also been thinking about other things,” he says, and he folds his hands together on the table, his brow furrowed and his face stern. He is about to bring up something I do not want to hear. “And I think it’s best if we just go ahead and discuss how we’re going to arrange this.”

Now I am completely confused. “Arrange what? I don’t know what you mean.”

He peers up at me sheepishly, as though he has expected me to have caught on already. “Well, I’m certainly not going to just vanish out of thin air after hearing I have a daughter,” he says, kicking back in the booth now and throwing his hands up in disgust. “I need to know what we’re going to do.”

It’s then that my attitude changes completely. He is saying ‘we,’ like at any point in the past he was even remotely involved in raising her. Now, he learns that one sperm got through and all of a sudden it’s ‘we.’ In response to my anger, I sit back in the booth, cross my arms tightly across my chest, and try to keep everything I want to scream at him to myself.

“I want to be involved, I want to get to know her,” he is saying. I bite my bottom lip, hard. “If this is something that we can make happen, I’d really prefer it to be friendly.”

On top of the anger and eagerness to shout, I am suddenly struck with tears of frustration. ‘I’d prefer it to be friendly?’ Like what we shared five years ago never even really happened except this one ‘accident.’ Like now we have to be civil for the sake of our child because otherwise, we can’t stand to be around each other. I feel as though I’ve been slapped across the face. I suddenly have the uncontrollable urge to run from this bar, out to my car, and be alone while I cry and sob for the memories I have been lying to myself.

I stay cool, though. After all, Tom is right about one thing. He’s her father, and he should be able to get to know her if he wants to. That’s as much as I owe him for not telling him about Emma in the first place. How can you give someone back four missed years, though?

“I mean, I hope it doesn’t come down to it,” Tom says, leaning forward again. I can see he is becoming slightly annoyed that I haven’t responded to anything yet. “If we can’t make this work nicely…”

“What, Tom?” I finally spit out. I can keep quiet no longer. Is he really going to sit here and make veiled threats about my child, the one I raised for four years all by myself? Just because he was there when she was conceived does not give him any right to her, and I will not be coerced. “If we can’t make this work nicely, or friendly, then you’ll do what, exactly?” I say, leaning forward now as well. The table is a little on the small side, and I realize for a fraction of a second that our faces are relatively close as we have this out here in a public place. “Are you going to call your lawyer? Take my daughter away from me? The daughter I raised by myself for four years without any help from anyone?”

“Not through any bleeding fault of my own!” he says, almost as though he wants to shout it but must keep his voice down. “You know I would have been there if I could!”

“Yeah, that’s a load of shit,” I crack, sitting back and crossing my arms again. “It took you five damned years to get a hold of me when there wasn’t an ‘obligation’ to think about.”

“Obligation?” he says. “Is that what you think this is about?”

“Of course!” I say, throwing up my hands. “Isn’t that what this whole little clandestine meeting is about? What you have to do, what you need to do?”

“I said ‘we’!” he corrects angrily.

“And I have a big problem with that, too,” I confess. If it’s going to come out, might as well say it all.

“What is the problem with that?” he asks, incredulous.

“First of all, Tom, there is no ‘we’ anymore. We agreed five years ago that ‘we’ wasn’t a thing after one week together. And then, remarkably, you decide that five years later you’re finally lonely enough to look me up again and when you find that everything isn’t just as you left it, you go ahead and just assume you can muscle in and take my daughter away from me because it’s the ‘right thing to do,’” I spit at him, breathless.

Tom doesn’t say anything. He is teeming with anger. I can feel it rising off his body in waves as he controls every urge to yell at me and respond with some semblance of a polite demeanor. “I cannot even begin to express everything that is wrong with that statement. Or several statements. I just… I-I don’t even know you anymore, Samantha!”

“What did you expect, Tom?” I say, desperation in my voice. “It’s been five years! I’m a mother, I’ve had to do a hell of a lot of growing up in a short time. Where were you? Where were you when I was growing up? Even if there wasn’t a baby, even if there wasn’t a reason for me to grow up, you still weren’t there!”

“I had my reasons.”

“And I had my reasons!”

Tom’s face contorts from anger into something that resembles deep, real anguish. My heart breaks. I don’t care how many years we’ve been apart, all the anger and resentment we have now, I still hate to see that pained look on his face. I want to wipe it all away but I know I just can’t do that.

“Regardless of the reasons, Samantha, the fact remains that we made a child together. I’m certainly not going to abandon her when I don’t even know her…” he says through the choked emotion in his throat.

“You’re right,” I say curtly. If he’s going to be matter-of-fact about this whole messy situation, I will remove myself emotionally. “She’s your daughter, too, and if you want to be a part of her life, there’s really no way I can stop you. Besides, she’s starting to ask questions, so it might be the right time to introduce you.”

Tom’s eyes betray him yet again. They swim with loss as he whispers back, “She’s asking about me?”

I want to let the tears flow down my face but I can’t let myself do that in front of him. I’m trying to stay strong in front of him, let him see that even though I love him desperately, I am able to do this on my own. I don’t need a man to make everything better, and the sooner he understands this, the better.

Then again, the help will be greatly appreciated if he’s willing.

“She’s asking why she doesn’t have a daddy, like the other kids she knows,” I answer finally, remaining confident.

He inhales sharply at this, his lips parting as he tries not to let the tears come. He is fighting this battle as hard I as am. “What have you told her?”

“I’ve…” I lose my composure momentarily and steal a glance at Tom when I do. He doesn’t look smug or satisfied at this. What I see in him, in fact, is that he is hurting again. “I haven’t told her much. I tell her that…” and when I remember exactly what I need to say to Tom about this, it makes me sad, deep in my heart. He’s being antagonistic right now and the last thing I want to do is give him any reason to think I can’t handle this. “I always make sure to tell her, first off, that mommy loves her so very much that she doesn’t need anyone else to share her love,” I take a deep breath, not looking at Tom. I’m sure these words can’t feel good after what we had together. “But then I tell her that her daddy… Her daddy is very busy and important, and that…”

I take this one last chance to glance up and look into Tom’s face. He has finally succumb to the tears that were threatening to fall forward. His cheeks are glistening and it is all it takes for me to become undone. My tears flow freely. “And what?” he whispers so I can barely hear him.

I swallow past the lump forming in my throat and finish quietly, “I say to her, ‘Your daddy loved your mommy very, very much, so much that he gave me the best present in the whole world. He gave me you.’”

At this point, Tom and I are both trying to just hold it together. I look up at him, willing him to forget all of his anger and frustration for a moment and come over to me, wrap me in his arms, and comfort me. Unfortunately, that is not bound to happen anytime soon.

We take a second to regain our composure and Tom tries to discreetly wipe his eyes before continuing our conversation. I pretend not to notice that he’s been crying. I at least owe him his pride.

“That’s a very nice thing to say, Samantha,” he says once we’re ready to talk again. He is back to being all business, and I am a little bit disappointed for this change in tack. “I don’t start shooting for a little while, so I can stay as long as it takes,” he says. For some reason, I am delighted at this news, even though I know there is really no hope for us to be together anymore. At any rate, I still get to see him after five years, and I suppose that is something.

“Okay,” I say, breathing. I don’t want to stay angry at him, so I am not going to bring up everything else I’d really love for us to hash out right now. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, there’s no sense in pissing him off any further than he already is. I know he’s not vindictive enough to bring lawyers into this mess, but he would have every right to demand some form of legal visitation. “What would you like to do?”

“Well, it depends on your schedule, I suppose,” he tells me, pulling out his iPhone and swiping through some things that I can’t see on my end. “My schedule is mostly free for now. I at least have the next few days off before I have to do anything. I made sure to take some time off.”

My heart skips a beat. He scheduled that time off because he knew he was going to be with me. I’m sure things are not going nearly as he expected. They certainly aren’t for me.

“I submitted my chapter already, so I’m not in a pinch to get anything done for a few days,” I say, pulling out my own phone to check the deadlines I’ve programmed into it. My life and career are programmed into this phone. “And since it’s the weekend, Emma and I have the next two days off, if you wanted to come by.”

Tom frowns a little at me, and I can’t tell what he is confused about. I love Tom, I always will, but Emma is my world, and for her, Tom is essentially a stranger. He’s not going to just snatch her up and spend alone time with her until I’m comfortable with it. On some level, he must realize this. He doesn’t speak for a minute, but he is still frowning at me and as I stare at him, he smirks slightly. “What is it?” I ask, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

“You mentioned submitting a chapter, and I thought of something you should see.” He looks back down at his phone and flips through a few things until he opens up something, smiles, and turns the phone over in his hand so I can get a good look at it. I realize that he is showing me what looks to be an eReader app on his iPhone. The setup looks like a library shelf and I am struck as I immediately recognize all the covers of my novels.

I am so deeply touched at this that I want to cry all over again. I have been published for over three years now, and I have been able to keep a steady pace for that time. All in all, there are five in the collection and one that I’m still working on. He has all of them.

“You’ve read my books?” I ask him, staring down at his hand. I have this insane urge to reach out to him, move the phone, and hold onto him for dear life.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I was browsing for something to read when I saw your name pop up in a ‘popular young adult’ list. I knew it was you.” I sigh heavily. My chosen writing name is ‘Sam Chance’ to keep my gender ambiguous. “I reread them every so often. It makes me feel closer to you.”

I peer up at him slowly after staring at his phone a second longer. His eyes are a tidal wave of emotion, those perfect pink lips I remember so well wet, open, and ready as his cheeks flush. I feel my own face heat up as we are mere inches from each other, our breath mingling, so much of our history flowing freely through the air between us. There are words unsaid, desires we aren’t able to express, and so, so much pure, unadulterated attraction that it is hard to stare into his face, watch his eyes rake down to my own ready waiting lips and back up to my dark eyes without closing the small gap and devouring him.

Tom clears his throat and is the first one to break eye contact. I sit back in my seat, slightly crestfallen but knowing that it is inevitable. He is not ready, and I don’t know that I am, either. Until we started talking today, I hadn’t realized that I actually am holding onto some residual anger over the fact that he hasn’t bothered to come back for me for five years. It hurts to think that once again, it was easy for a man to live without me.

“So, tomorrow then?” he asks, putting his phone away in his pocket, his expression impassable. “How would you like this to go?”

“We can do something simple,” I say. I am feeling a little more confident now that we’re back on a comfortable subject; my daughter. “The real priority for all of this is that Emma isn’t uneasy, so I’d prefer not to take her anywhere she’s unfamiliar with,” I explain to him. His arms are crossed and he is nodding as he listens. “If you want to bond with her, the best thing I can suggest is just to come by the house and spend time with her,” I tell him, and I start thinking of all the things she will say and do when he’s there. She is so friendly and enigmatic and I love her for her sweet, caring nature and her enthusiasm. And that’s when I remember what she said just that morning about Tom. I smile wider.

Tom, despite the seriousness of the situation, chances a tiny smile as he asks, “What is that for?”

“I was just remembering something Emma said this morning,” I say, and I chuckle a bit. “It was about you, actually.”

“Really?” he says, and I can tell he is surprised. “What did she say?”

I gaze down at the table for a moment, and then back up to him. His eyes are dark and concentrated on me, the shadow of amusement on his lips. “She likes the way you talk. She asked me if you were a prince.”

A true smile spreads across his face then and I feel myself melt all over again. I don’t want to do that. Then I lose any semblance of control. “That’s adorable,” he says, and reaches into his pocket to pull out some money for his tea. I have ordered nothing, so we have no need to wait for a check.

Tom starts to stand up from the table. He waits for me to stand up before walking me outside. He nods to the waitress and thanks her, then holds the door open for me as we walk out. My vehicle is parked across the street and I’m not sure which way Tom has to go to leave. We stand for a second, staring at one another in an awkward silence, waiting for someone to make the first move to walk away. It seems that neither of us wants to do that.

“Before I forget,” he says finally, grabbing his phone out. “I want to make sure you have my mobile.” His fingers move quickly across the screen and I feel my own phone vibrate in my pocket. I reach in and grab it and see the text message from an unknown number. He has texted me his cell number, and I make sure to save it into my contacts before I forget. “I’ll wait for your call tomorrow so that I can come by.”

“We’ll be up early, we always are,” I explain to him, putting my phone back in my pocket after locking it. “I can make us lunch or something. If I recall correctly, I never actually got to cook for you.”

“As I recall you can whip up a picnic rather nicely,” he says with a sad smile on his lips.

I feel sad when he says this. He must remember the details of that week just as well as I do, and for that, I am eternally thankful. It is still sad that our time in the sun is over, and we are both too aware of that fact.

“That’s not the same,” I tell him, clutching my purse tightly. I need something to ground me right now. Being with him again, remembering how it felt to be in his arms and taste his lips is making my head swim. I am soaring through an island of memories and fantasies, things that are making me forget that I am here in the present with a man that is angry with me and has no intention of reuniting with a woman that has lied to him for so long.

And then Tom says something that makes me reconsider this thought. He appears to want to reach out to me, but he catches himself and gives me a warm, genuine smile before he says, “It’s actually kind of amazing that Emma said something about me being a prince.”

“And why is that?” I ask him, wondering what his answer could possibly be.

“In a way, she’s not far off the mark,” he says. He runs a hand through his hair before he says, “I did always think of you as my own beautiful miracle in a far off land. I always hoped one day I would find my way back to you. It’s a bit like a fairy tale, after all.”

And before I can say anything else, he smiles sadly, turns around, and walks away.


	16. Five Years Ago: Day Six

Day Six

“I want to make sure you know how much I love you.”

“I do know.”

“Yes, but I want you to make sure you never, ever forget.”

“Do you honestly think that I could ever forget you?”

“I don’t know, I know that I won’t ever forget you.”

“Really? I mean, I’m just me, and you’re –”

“Just me, too. Remember, I’m not an actor with you. I’m – ”

“Just Tom, I know, I know.”

The next morning Tom and Sammy lay in their hotel room, wrapped up in the sheets and each other, clinging as desperately as they could. They were both far too aware that they only had this day and then tomorrow, they would say goodbye. It was almost too much to bear. Tom hadn’t moved, stroking Sammy’s hair until she awoke, and she hadn’t moved either. After they delved into each other once more, they couldn’t bring themselves to break apart. Sammy had her head pressed up against Tom’s chest, listening to his heart beating, feeling his chest rising, trying to remember every single second that she was spending with him. He, in turn, was rested against her hair, kissing the crown of her head, pressing his own cheek against her damp forehead. They were blissful and desperate all in one moment.

The silence stretched and stretched afterward. Sammy loved that their breathing was in synch for that perfect time. It felt so special, being here with him. She didn’t want to spoil the mood by speaking, but there were so many words coming to her lips that she wanted to explode, telling him every single thought that crossed through her mind.

But Tom was the one that spoke first, mirroring all of the thoughts in Sammy’s head, telling her how much he loved her and wanting her to know… in case she ever forgot.

“It doesn’t matter who we are, my love,” he told her, squeezing her close, burying his face into her hair. “It doesn’t matter where we are, and it will never, ever matter how far apart we eventually get. If you move on with your life, get married to some other bloke, it doesn’t matter. I will always, always, always love you.”

Sammy was instantly choked up, and she didn’t want to spend this last day with him an emotional mess. How could he ever think she would be able to marry someone else? She would never be able to move on from Tom. This love was so much deeper and real than anything she’d ever felt, how could anything else compare to that?

“Tom, I couldn’t marry anyone else…” she whispered to him. “The fact that you even think I could…”

“You have to promise me something,” he said, moving back to look into her eyes. She was struck at the shimmering, ever changing iridescence of those beautiful sea blues. She could not deny him anything.

“All right,” she whispered.

“Promise me that you’ll be happy,” he begged, his eyes pleading. “If that means being with me at some point in the future that would be amazing, but if you want to be with someone else, please don’t worry… I just want you to be happy. Can you promise me that?”

Sammy knew she had to, but she also knew, deep down, that she would really only ever be happy with Tom. The tears form at the corners of my eyes and I answer, “Of course I promise,” and she wanted to say so much more to him.

“Don’t mistake for a single second,” he whispered then, sliding his hand delicately across her cheek, resting it there as he spoke from the heart, “I want more than anything to be the person that makes you happy for eternity.”

“And I want you to be the one that makes me happy,” she answered. Every bit of the love he felt for her flashed over his striking features as he brought her lips up to his, consuming her completely.

Sammy allowed herself to completely drown in Tom’s embrace. There was something so magical about his kiss, something that made her believe that anything and everything in the world was not only possible, but probable. He told story after story with those wonderful lips, weaving together dreams as he wrote the poetry that was their love. He seemed to give her every assurance that what they were sharing was incredibly, passionately real. They were going to be together someday. Sammy could tell when they were locked together like this that he truly believed it and wanted to do everything he could to make sure she believed it, too.

Sammy did not know whether to completely give herself over to this belief. He’d held her in the ocean only a couple of days ago, telling her that their time together wasn’t over. He guaranteed that at some point in the future, they could find a time and place to be together again. As much as she wanted to believe him implicitly, it was a little bit hard to accept even the smallest possibility that at some point in the future their lives would work out perfectly so that they could begin their true forever.

No, if she was perfectly honest with herself, Sammy knew that this was probably the end of the line for them. If this was the end of the line for them, Sammy knew that this was the inevitable end for her as well. There was no way any other man on the planet could measure up to Tom and what they shared this short, beautiful week. It was unfair to hold up anyone else to those standards and there was no way that she could love someone that didn’t remotely hold a candle to the man her soul belonged with.

It was just so damned hard to resist in his kiss, though… so hard to deny it when he believed so emphatically.

He pulled away and quietly gasped for breath, clutching her like a life line in this tumultuous ocean of emotion. “I’ll never find another Samantha.”

“Oh, Tom,” she sighed, burying her head into his chest and nestling it in that perfect spot right near his heartbeat.

“Know, my love, that I’ll always be with you,” he whispered, and ran his hand down her cheek, to her neck, to her shoulder, and down onto the trembling flesh that covered her pounding heart, “right here.”

If Tom hadn’t made her feel alive with the mere teasing of his electric fingertips right then, she would have teased him about the cheesiness of that comment. It may have seemed like kind of a line, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice. Somehow then, the cliché seemed oddly appropriate.

Sammy closed her eyes and drank in the moment, trying to remember everything about him before she opened her eyes, just to see if she could. It was a difficult task until she really allowed her heart to open up to it. There was so much about him that her brain had already latched onto.

The moment she opened her eyes, she couldn’t help but think about all of the things that could have been. Where would they be if things were just slightly different?

“Tom?” Sammy breathed, unable to keep the questions away any longer.

“Yes, love?” he sighed back.

“Where do you think we’d be if… if things were different?”

“How’d you mean? What ‘things’?”

Sammy gathered a little confidence and continued her thought. “Like, if for whatever reason we were actually able to be together after this week?”

Tom was quiet for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only about two minutes. Finally, he took a deep breath and replied slowly, “Honestly, Samantha…” he steadied himself again, “honestly, I wouldn’t hesitate a single moment. If there was even a small part of you that believed you were truly, deeply ready for what you and I could possibly have, I would say that we could make it work and I’d take you with me and never look back.”

There was so much packed into that statement that Sammy had a hard time processing all of it. The first thing she noticed was that he seemed to be laying the blame for their situation entirely on her shoulders. The second thing she made sure to take stock of was the fact that he did, indeed, want to whisk her away like they were in some kind of storybook.

She wanted to respond to all of it and none of it at the same time. Instead, she opted to ask him to delve into his explanation more, avoiding the guilt she felt for being emotionally unavailable at all. It probably would have helped if he wasn’t so busy with his career.

“What are you thinking, love?” he finally whispered after the quiet stretched a little too long.

Sammy shifted a few times uncomfortably, unsure how to ask her question. She tried not to take too much longer to answer him, so she began, “Tell me everything. Tell me about every little thing we would do together, what we would share. I want to hear all of it from you. What would you want?” she blurted, reaching her fingers out and brushing the bright red stubble on his face gently. She even wanted to make sure to remember the roughness of his cheek when he woke up in the morning.

“You’re asking a lot of me,” he said to her softly, his breath brushing her cheek as she heard the sadness in his tone. He didn’t want to dwell in what they could have been but at the same time, Sammy knew he was just as curious as she was. They wanted to know where they could go.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she said, kissing him delicately on his adorable pointed nose. “You don’t have to answer if you really don’t want to.”

“The first thing I would do,” he said, completely ignoring her assurances, “is make sure that you’re comfortable enough leaving California so that you could come with me and not have to worry about anything.”

“That seems fairly easy,” she told him, thinking of it logically. There wasn’t much holding her in California anymore except a steady, albeit lonely, routine. She wasn’t heavily invested in her job and she certainly wasn’t attached to her modest apartment. Molly was her only family and she wasn’t even in Cali.

“Right after that, of course, I would whisk you away to London and show you the city,” he explained, a smile creeping onto his lips as he thought of his home country. “There’s so much I can show you, and I would be so delighted to do so.”

“That could be fun,” she said, smiling now as well. Tom had the most infectious grin she had ever seen in her life.

“It absolutely would be,” he agreed. “I would treat you like a queen, of course. I would give you everything you ever wanted, buy you your dream home, give you all the most beautiful diamonds and shower you with gifts until you never wanted for a thing.”

It warmed her heart to hear this, but Sammy knew that there was nothing material she really desired. “You wouldn’t need to do that,” she assured. “You are the only gift I need.”

“I’d still like to give you everything.” Tom stopped then and Sammy knew why. They were speaking in present tense and it sounded almost completely real, as though it were going to happen. They weren’t just wishing, they were hoping.

It was heartbreaking.

“And then,” he began again, his voice breaking. This, in turn, wrenched Sammy’s heart in two. “And then of course, you would meet my family, and I know they would absolutely adore you.”

“That would be nice,” she said. “I’d be very nervous, of course.”

“Why in hell would you be nervous?” he asked, his grin wide, his tone incredulous.

“So many reasons,” she said, rolling her eyes. “First of all, it’s always nerve racking meeting a man’s mother, if absolutely no one else,” this reply earned her an eye roll from Tom, who didn’t lose his grin. “Sisters are also protective, especially when the family is close.”

“Oh please!”

“Seriously,” she said. “Top all of that off with the fact that their little Tommy is an internationally known and respected movie star and you practically have a closing ranks type of situation in the Hiddleston household.”

“First off,” he began, chuckling to himself, “my mother and sisters would not close ranks! They love me and want me to be with someone that I can trust and love completely,” Sammy opened her mouth to say that she told him so, but he cut her off abruptly. “However they do realize that I am smart and mature enough to choose a woman I feel is not with me for the wrong reasons.” He stopped, staring deeply into her eyes, searching for the answer to the question he was about to ask. “Are you with me for the wrong reasons?”

“Why would even ask that?” she spit out immediately.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, a knowing gleam to his wide smile as he leaned forward and delivered a quick kiss. “See? You would have nothing to worry about.”

Sammy felt slightly queasy, knowing that she would have passed the test with Tom’s family, people she would never get the chance to meet. “What else?”

Tom was struck silent for a moment, choking on his words. “After you knew my family, I would take you to the English countryside and show you the true beauty of my home.” He paused, taking a breath. “I would take you to visit some of the most old, beautiful relics, things that are so classic in architecture and full of history…”

“Sounds breathtaking,” she offered, waiting for him to finish.

“It’s absolutely perfect,” he said, his voice wistful and his eyes far off. “I would not hesitate a moment to take you there, preferably during the exact moment when the flowers begin to bloom in spring, that beautiful time when everything is new, and it’s the season of rebirth. I’d wait for the sun to sink into the horizon, when the pink in the sky was as brilliant as that amazing dress you wore the first night I met you, and I would get to my knee and ask you to be my wife.”

Sammy wanted to cry the moment she heard it, because she suspected it was what he was leading up to, but actually hearing the words ‘my wife’ coming from his lips was almost too much for her fractured heart to bear. She opened her mouth and squeaked, eliciting a slightly pained expression from Tom, elevating his eyebrows as he watched her struggle to answer him.

He saved the day once again my gripping her skin tightly, pulling her into him as he drank her lips in eagerly. Sammy would never forget these lips, these two incredibly soft, inviting lips that were always so anxious to devour her completely. What was it about his kisses that made her so weak in the knees? That perfect mouth elicited lines of Shakespeare in her mind, his descriptions far too accurately describing the experience of kissing Tom Hiddleston.

When they broke apart, his face was flushed and she could see the faintest, lightest trace of freckles on his cheeks. It was very hard to see, but in the right light, it colored his cheeks and made him that much more endearing. If she could paint, she would paint this man a million times over, until the paint ran dry.

“You would marry me?” Sammy asked after so much, her voice so inaudible that Tom had to lean in even closer to hear her.

“I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to make you an honest woman,” he said, an evil grin spreading across his face. “I’ve already made you unfit for all other men.”

She had to laugh at this. She was a virgin by no means. The thought of getting married again was scary, but she knew, deep down, if she were to marry Tom that it would be one of the best decisions she could ever make.

“We would have a wonderful wedding, it would be everything you ever dreamed of,” he started again, weaving her quite a beautiful picture. “After we were married, though, you’d become part of my world. You would travel with me to all the most exotic places, be on my arm whenever I had to make an appearance, see all the premieres and attend all the parties… It’d be very nice having you as my companion there, since there are times when it does get a little lonely.” Sammy sighed and closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest again as he spoke. She started to imagine going to premieres and galas and other publicity events with him. If last night was any indication of what she would expect from these public appearances, it would definitely have to be something she got used to quickly. “And of course, once we were ready, we could settle in for a bit and have children.”

“Children?” she asked, her head popping up and her eyes flying open. “You… you would want to… to have children with me?” Her voice broke as she asked, cracking with the thought of having a family with Tom. It was such a wonderful, out there thought that she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it.

“Samantha,” he sighed, his lips not quite stretching into a smile. He gazed into her eyes, more deeply than she had ever felt, and every single fiber of her being was stretching over time, space, and into another dimension because there was no way she could feel this way here on earth, with this man. Her theory of their love being on some other plane of existence was completely accurate. It was as though he could see the faces of their potential children. “You and I were meant to be together in some way. If our moment together isn’t over yet, then we have plenty of time to make beautiful babies together.”

“Don’t…” Sammy started, but began crying instead. The tears stopped her from speaking any further, and instead of bothering to try and fend them off, she gave in and wrapped herself into Tom’s protective, loving embrace and shed the tears she needed to right then for the relationship, the life, the marriage, the children she and Tom would never have a chance to have. Why was this their moment to meet and then part? Why couldn’t they have done this at that perfect time, when they were supposed to be together for good?

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” she managed through the sobs that were racking her body.

Tom’s face spoke more than any of his words could. He was slightly upset that she would even insinuate he could be lying, and for a quick second his sea tinted eyes blazed hot at this assumption but he contained himself, grabbing her shoulders and squeezing her firmly to catch her attention. She wiped tears from her eyes so that she could see him clearly. His expression was hard but his eyes were swimming, his brow furrowed and the lines of his forehead visible as he gathered his wits to speak. “Just because this has to end for a time doesn’t mean that what I’m saying to you isn’t the undisputable truth. I want you, Samantha, and I always will. I will think of you every single day until I am with you again. Don’t ever doubt that.” He finished speaking and Sammy didn’t respond, staring at him. He widened his eyes a little as he asked, “Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” she answered automatically. Of course she believed him, but it was going to be hard to accept at times when they weren’t together. She already knew that. “I know you love me, Tom.”

“Good.” He kissed her quietly and rested his cheek against hers, whispering seductively into her ear, “Now let me show you how much I love you.”


	17. Present Day

Present Day

The first thought that crosses my mind as I wake up the next morning is how much I am really looking forward to seeing Tom today. I catch myself before I have time to enjoy the thought, but it was my very first instinctual reaction to what lies before me today. Maybe it won’t be that bad, because we are spending time together for the purpose of him getting to know Emma, and even though he’s not here to see me, it should be a good day. There should be no fighting or arguments, and hopefully we can coexist somewhat civilly while he bonds with my daughter.

I go on with my day normally, trying to forget that tiny, irrational happy thought and wait for his call. I take my shower, feed me and Emma, and sit down to try and attempt to get some writing done. I sit for almost an hour, typing and retyping the same two sentences while my mind wanders. Emma is sitting at the table with me, chattering away, and I am finding it incredibly hard to concentrate. Usually Emma can sit and talk to me while I write and I don’t actually need to be an active listener to appease her. She doesn’t provide enough of a distraction to hinder me from finishing my work when it needs to get done. So the problem right now is not her.

It’s Tom.

I feel as desperate as I did five years ago when we were together, knowing I was about to lose him. Now I know for a fact that I’ve lost him and being around him puts me back in that torturous position I was in before. I need to get this man out of my system once and for all, but now that he is aware of Emma’s existence, there is no way I’ll ever be able to fully escape what I truly feel for him.

I do not understand for the life of me how Tom can escape it.

It’s not too long before I realize that writing is a lost cause and I save what I’ve managed to squeak out so far and turn to some busy work, like cleaning and catching up on some long neglected housework. This activity is the best I can come up with, so once I have Emma happy and situated in her room, I will turn to the kitchen.

I am finishing the kitchen and moving onto the living room when my phone finally rings. I jump to answer it, see that it is Tom, and try desperately to calm my thudding heart before I answer the phone. I have no idea what is about to happen when I answer, but I have to dive in, headfirst.

I click my phone and answer it, whispering, “Hello?”

“Hello, Samantha,” he says, his deep, musical voice low and emotionless. “I’m calling to ask if you had anything figured out for today.”

I bite my lip in sheepish embarrassment. The truth was, I didn’t. I had given it a modicum of thought but hadn’t actually made any decisions regarding what we could do today. My mind just kept drifting off, thinking about all of the things I was so afraid to admit to myself about Tom’s return.

“Well, actually…” I stall, glancing around the living room as though an answer will pop out at me unexpectedly. I want Emma to be comfortable, and he already knows and understands all of this, so I have the advantage in choosing a location that I am comfortable with as well.

And then it hits me and I can stop sputtering like an idiot. “I thought maybe we could take a picnic and some other stuff over to this wonderful park that Emma and I visit a lot. It’s beautiful,” I keep explaining, as though I have to sell the idea. “It’s got this huge jungle gym and other little toys for the kids to play on, but it’s also this nice, open area that backs up to this weeping willow…” I start to feel a flush creep up my cheeks as I picture Tom and I sitting on a blanket together under this willow. The imagery is far too vivid for my tired, heartbroken mind. “Anyway, it’s a great spot for a picnic as well as being family friendly and something Emma is familiar with. How does that sound?”

Once I am finished, I am aware that I must have been talking a mile a minute and sounding slightly insane, because Tom is making an odd sound on the other end, a sound I really didn’t think I would hear from him at any point in the future. He is genuinely, whole heartedly laughing at me, beginning me to stop. The fact that he is laughing is not nearly as wonderful as me knowing that I am the one that elicited said laughter. I am so taken aback that before I know it, I have lost myself and am giggling right along with him.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, out of a morbid curiosity more than the need to end this moment.

“You,” he is saying, and I hear him try to control his laughter subtly. He takes a couple of breaths and then comes back to the conversation. “You really don’t have to try so hard to convince me on the idea. You’re her mother, you know better. Besides, I’m not going to argue, it sounds like a wonderful spot.” I am so surprised by his reaction that I am struck dumb for a moment. He takes the silence as an opportunity to continue speaking. “Are you bringing a lunch then?”

“I-I can,” I answer, forcing my tongue to move. “Is there anything you’d like?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out, you always do,” he says, and his voice has a hard edge, but is mostly still quite neutral. I wish at some point in the near future he’d start to consider forgiving me.

“I will,” I whisper back, and after a moment things level out and we are back to business. I give him the directions to the park, negotiate a time to meet, and awkwardly hang up the phone after saying ‘goodbye’ to one another too many times. I try to put the conversation out of my head and start to get Emma ready. We have an hour before we meet Tom and I do not want to waste a second of it.

As I suspected, it does not feel like nearly long enough before I am loading my daughter up in my Dodge and making the familiar turns to get to the park. I told Tom where we were going to be parking, so when I pull in and see him already standing there, his back facing me and his hands in pockets, I am not surprised. I don’t move for a second, opting to watch him instead.  
I am angry with him for putting me through this and deathly afraid that this whole ordeal is going to forever scar my daughter. However, as I watch this man that I’ve loved so deeply, I realize that the real reason I am angry is because Tom waited five years to come for me, and I am deathly afraid that Emma and I will never see him again after he leaves.

I was definitely hoping this could be simple, but it has become incredibly complex.

When Emma starts asking me if we can get out, I respond right away and open the door to exit the car. Tom breaks his concentration and finally turns around and spots me. He is wearing sunglasses and therefore his face is hard to read. His lips are set in a thin line and I instantly have doubts that this is going to be a civil afternoon as he approaches us.

Emma is finally out of the car, and I am grabbing the large bag of supplies that I have brought along, as well as the separate bag that contains our lunch. I lean over and try to grab Emma to me, and just as I think I am about to lose everything in my hands, I feel a weight lifting from my right arm. I turn my head abruptly and see Tom’s face inches from my own as he has grabs the supply bag from me. I can see the details that I have been unable to spot until now in our reunion. The laugh lines around his eyes that I admired so when we were first together have deepened slightly, which only adds to his sexiness. The bright blue-green eyes I remember so well are still as brilliant as ever, if not a bit aged with life and wisdom. I see the faintest brush of freckles across his cheeks, somewhat hidden by his facial hair and the aviator style sunglasses. The one thing I notice most, though, in this torturously slow moment, is the subtle movement Tom makes as I see the tip of his tongue poke out slightly, wet his lips, and then part slightly. My body reacts so strongly that I feel as though it has remembered the instincts of the past. When Tom makes his lips kissable, I am supposed to kiss.

We recover quickly when time speeds back up. He has the bag in my hand and is offering to carry the other, and I know that even if I resist, he will take it anyway so I hand it over. I close the door and lock my car and then turn to lead Tom to mine and Emma’s spot.

Emma is asking incessantly if she can go play, but she knows the rules. When we come, we set up our picnic area first, get everything situated, and then I take her over to play on the jungle gym. I prefer to be there with her, keeping an eye out to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself or in case she needs me. I am telling her this as we are walking over to our spot, telling her that we have to show Tom how things are done when we go to the park. She is more than eager to be a good little helper to this man she keeps insisting must be a prince.

Once we have picked my spot under the willow, I lay out the blanket and realize that Emma is the only one talking. Tom and I have not spoken since our shared moment over in the parking lot. We are both being incredibly careful about what we say, and the only reason I know he is being careful as well is because he is positioning one of the two bags fairly low in front of him. I can’t help it, but I smirk a little.

“Mommy, can I please, please go over and play?” Emma says, and I fight the urge to snap at her. I have already told her once to stop asking and now I am getting annoyed.

“Emma…” I say dangerously, and then I turn and see her standing there, her dark eyes wide and begging me to let her go play. I can’t find it in my heart to tell her to wait any longer, but before I have a chance, I turn and see Tom setting my bags down. I have to get it all arranged for eating anyway, so I find the opportunity presenting itself all too easily.

Tom gives me a short smile as he watches me. I must be clearly formulating a plan in my head, because I even see his smile turn up in a bemused sort of way. I am about to lose my nerve, but I figure the best way to get Tom into this is just to throw him in. It’s sink or swim time.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you ask Tom if he’d like to take you to play?”

She appears to be a little shy and starts to edge back over to me, an embarrassed smile on her face, her eyes not leaving Tom’s. I take a moment to look up at Tom and see a large beam on his lips as he returns Emma’s gaze. My heart warms until I see the slightest flash of panic cross his features. For a second, I feel bad for throwing him in like this, but he wants to get to know her. I don’t know a better way to do this.

“Emma, you’re being rude, just ask him, I’m sure he’d like to take you,” I tell my daughter as I bend over to speak to her. She is still acting shy, but not at all to my surprise, Tom steps in and saves the day again.

“Actually, Emma, I was wondering if you’d like to take me over to play,” he says, crouching down in front of Emma, balancing on the balls of his feet as he faces my daughter. “I may be a prince, but I always need a beautiful princess to show me the way.”

It takes less than a second for Emma to change her mind about being shy. Her smile instantly grows wide, her eyes lighting up as she stares up at me, as if it say, ‘I knew he was a prince, Mommy!’ and who am I to deny her? Maybe in some way, Tom is a prince.

“Will you show me, darling?” he asks her and gains from her an emphatic nod as she turns and runs away from him, proclaiming that she needs him to follow her closely.

Tom shares with me one more glance, his eyes lit up and eager as well as holding some slight trepidation. It’s like he’s asking me if this is all right, if she is going to accept him, and I cannot bear the sight of his eyes a second more. I nod, wave him off, and watch as that same wide smile spreads across his face and he catches up to Emma.

I observe them, forgetting everything I need to do on the blanket as they interact on the playground. The first place Emma wants to show him is the swing set, her favorite part. She tries to get him to tentatively sit down while she attempts to push him. She is giggling and laughing, anxious to teach him everything she knows about the swings. Emma is being her usual, sweet boisterous self, and I expect her to act like this. It’s Tom that is the most surprising, though. He clearly knows how to act around young children, because he is actually making an effort to pretend that he doesn’t know how to swing. He keeps asking her questions, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically when she has to explain something again or he gets something wrong.

They continue this on past the swings and onto the actual jungle gym. I know that Emma is trying to convince him to join her, but he is insisting that he shouldn’t. It’s best that he doesn’t try because the few times I’ve actually been up there with her I nearly broke my neck getting bowled over by over enthusiastic toddlers.

I need to get to unpacking our bags but I am unable to tear my eyes away. I have done this a million times, played with Emma and made sure she was safe and watched after, and I have seen Molly do it a few times, as well, but seeing Tom here is just something else entirely. I really didn’t think Emma would get the opportunity to meet her father until she was much older. After waiting around for five years, I really had no delusions about Tom ever coming back for me. I figured at some point in the future I would have to seek him out when Emma was old enough to handle the truth.

So seeing him here, beaming so big and laughing wholeheartedly at my daughter is an amazing, nearly mesmerizing event in my history. Emma has now advanced to the slide, her second favorite part of the playground set and Tom is following closely behind, telling her over and over to be careful and assuring her that he was still down there. Not many other children are here at the park today, which seems odd on such a beautiful Saturday, but I try not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I know he’s going to get recognized at some point, but the longer we can go without running into that issue, the better. I want his time with Emma to be untarnished by the realities of his career.

“Are you watching, Tom?” I hear Emma squeal at the top of the slide. She is staring out a set of plastic bars, trying to assure that her audience is fully engaged. I can see the profile of her face and her huge, cheesy grin. I am struck when I look at Tom’s profile and see his own grin and realize, yet again, how alike they really do look. I’m not sure how I missed that, since it was one of the things I love the most about Tom and one of the things I adore most about my daughter.  
I am a slave to that big, dorky grin.

“I am watching, darling, go ahead!” Tom responds, crossing his arms as he peers up at her, amused. She excitedly turns around, whipping her long curls behind her as she makes for the top of the slide. I find myself taking a step forward, about to call to her to be careful when I hear, “Please be careful, Emma!” Tom has moved around to make sure he can see her as she heads up to the top. My heart skips a beat when I see him in this almost… fatherly role. There is something so sexy about him in a completely new way right now. He pushes the sunglasses up on his face as he frowns, watching her with the concerned eyes of a parent.

I can hardly contain myself. The tears spring to my eyes so quickly that they are out and pouring down my cheeks before I even have a chance to realize what is happening. Emma is down the slide now, jumping out and running as fast as her little legs can carry her toward Tom, asking if he saw, did he see what she did and what she can do? Tom kneels down in front of her to answer and for the first time, I notice his hesitation. I frown, seeing that his hands are balled into fists, clenching and unclenching his fingers as he is talking to her. They are a fair distance away and I can’t really see Tom’s eyes as he peers over the sunglasses at Emma, but I recognize the lines in his forehead as he struggles internally. I feel the familiar tingling of our connection, weak, but still there.

Tom wants to reach out to Emma, wants to take her in his arms and hold her, kiss her, love her, just feel her there against him. I know that he is feeling this because it’s how I feel every single second of the day when I am with my daughter. The only difference is I have no cause for hesitance. Tom, unfortunately, does.

My heart feels so sad now that I do turn away and start to put together our lunch. I have brought a few additional activities for Emma in case she gets bored with the playground, which is bound to happen. I loved this idea at first, but now I am so saddened at seeing the longing on Tom’s face as he stares at Emma… All I want to do is cry.

I finish setting everything up and sit down on the blanket, staring off into space. Tom and Emma have gone back around to the slide, and Tom is waiting for her at the bottom this time. This is something she usually requests after a few rounds so that she can see me as she comes down the slide. I love that she has asked Tom to do this because it seems to be something of an expression of hers, as intimate moments in the life of a four year old go.

They are laughing and enjoying themselves, so I am content to lie back on the blanket and gaze up into the beautiful, swaying branches of the willow tree. The air is crisp and the leaves have all but completely abandoned the trees at this point. The willow hangs onto some of them, because it is once again unseasonably warm in Michigan during the autumn. This is a phenomenon that happens quite often, so it’s nice to be able to take advantage of the tepid fifty-degree afternoon.

I close my eyes momentarily, trying to free my mind of all the angst, anger, and heartbreak that has happened in the last few days and let go. I feel the sweet breeze of the November air gently caress my cheek and I find myself wishing against everything inside of me that instead of the wind it could be Tom’s soft fingers touching my face like this…

“Mommy, are you asleep?”

My eyes shoot open and I am faced with my reality. Emma is there, her precious eyes curious and her smile wide as she peers down at me. I see her turn back to Tom, who is stepping up into my line of sight as I lay on my back. He gives me a mixed expression, as though he is trying to remember why he has to be unhappy with me when he really just wants to let go and smile. I find this a little amusing, and despite everything, I giggle a little.

“What’s so funny?” my daughter demands, crossing her arms defiantly.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” I say, and bend to sit up. Briefly, I see Tom extend his hand down to me, and my stomach lurches as I debate whether or not to touch him again. It could be bad to actually feel his skin on mine again…

But before I can make up my mind, Emma launches herself at me, curling her small, soft arms around my neck. “I love you, baby,” I whisper to her, squeezing her tight. “Did you have fun with Tom?”

“Uh huh!” she cries, squeezing me back as hard as her little four year old arms can and then stepping back. “I showed him the swings and he couldn’t figure out how to push himself!” she says between giggles, closing her eyes as she bares all of those cute little teeth. “I had to show him!”

“That’s so funny,” I tell her, unable to contain the wide smile I feel stretching across my lips. “You’d think he would know how, since he’s so tall.”

“I know!” she says, and then she spots some of the things I’ve brought with us and she gasps. “Mommy! Can I play bubbles?”

“Not right now,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and guiding her back to me. “We’re going to eat first, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, resigned, and sits down next to me as I start to pull out the sandwiches I’ve made for everyone. I look up after I turn to grab the food and notice that Tom is still standing there awkwardly, unsure of where to go. I frown up at him.

“Are you going to stand there like a goon the whole time?” I ask, confused.

“Uh, no,” he says, and with a small smile on his face, he sits down across from the two of us and waits patiently for me to hand out our lunches.

We eat in a stretched, tense silence for a few minutes and I am at war with all of the things I want to say to Tom. He is right here, in front of me, tangible, and while I have a million things on my mind that I need to speak, the only thing I find myself wanting to do is just reach out and touch him. for some reason, my grief stricken heart just needs to make sure he is real and that this isn’t all some crazy fever induced dream. For one crazy minute I really believe that it might be possible that I picked up Emma’s illness and am just hallucinating. I need to know.

And then I catch myself and realize how crazy I sound, even to myself. I am back to biting my tongue, wanting to tell him that he doesn’t need to feel uncomfortable. After all, to Emma, he is family, and I want him to be able to conduct himself around me like we weren’t lovers that are now faced with a very odd circumstance upon or reunion. I want him to not be awkward and I desperately wish that he would just relax around me.

I also try not to blurt out and tell him that even after all the crap we have dealt to each other over the past few days, I still love him with every beat of my heart and every breath in my lungs. I love him to the point where this is all excruciating, not touching him, not being able to smile at him or reach out and caress him, kiss him, tell him that I love him, laugh with him… It’s all so sad that I feel my eyes filling up with tears again.

Before I have even the slightest second to pretend that I’m not crying I hear Emma say, “Are you crying, Mommy?”

I look up then, right at Tom, and I am horrified. I did not want to cry in the first place but now it has been called to attention. I don’t want him knowing that I have any feeling about anything right now. I see the pain in his eyes and I realize that he feels it just as much as I do. I want to scream at him, want to tell him to just share all of this with me, but I cannot. Instead, I turn to my daughter and assure her that I’m fine. Then I make sure that she has eaten enough, and when I am satisfied she is finished, I tell her that she can play with the coloring books that I’ve brought her. I need her to take it easy for a few minutes before she runs off and becomes active again. The last thing I want her dealing with on this exciting day is a tummy ache.

She decides to take her crayons and coloring book a little ways away from us (to assert her independence, I assume) and once she finds a spot somewhat close to us but far enough away to be out of earshot, she delves in passionately. I smile at her, loving the concentration she gives to this task because it is indicative of her work ethic and creativity in the future. At least, I’m pretty sure it is.

I am staring at her and nearly jump when I hear Tom’s low voice whisper behind me. “She’s so much like you.”

I whip my head around and face him, uncertain if he is sincere, but his eyes tell me that he is. He does not appear to be angry, frustrated, upset, or even pained by all of this right now. He is not necessarily smiling and happy, either, so it is hard to describe his expression. It seems almost like a kind of reverence, watching this family just happen to him and being both completely caught off guard but overwhelmingly joyful all at the same time. As I watch him watch me, I see his lips turn up in the smallest shadow of what could possibly turn into a smile, and he speaks again, “And I just love her.”

My entire world shifts with this one statement and I find it slightly hard to breathe. I am so, so relieved that he and Emma have hit it off this quickly, because in the long run, that will make things so much easier. I am delighted that he is enchanted with her, since I take this as a compliment to my own genetics for turning out such a beautiful, sweet little girl. I am also fearful in this deeply primal way that only a mother can feel when it comes to losing her baby to anyone. I feel this especially hard because I haven’t had to share her with anyone for four years. On top of that, I have the big, messy ball of emotions that are wrapped up in my reunion with Tom, along the unrequited love I still have for him amidst all the other complex crap.

I suddenly feel very ill and I cannot shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen soon with this whole mess. I don’t know what it is, but it happens all at once and settles into me with a heavy, leaded weight. I want to take my child and run away. Our life before wasn’t perfect, but it was ours, and no one could take that away from us. Tom, as much as I do still love him and want him to be in my life for Emma and for me, I wish that for a second he would just turn around and walk away.

I come back to myself instead, try not to appear too sick on the outside, and give him a wry smile, “Well, thanks, made her myself.”

At first, I am scared to see what Tom’s reaction will be. I have quipped this line many a time when a stranger tells me that my daughter is ‘cute’ or ‘darling’ or ‘precious.’ It always gets a good laugh. It’s become such a second nature answer that I haven’t even take the time out to realize that the man I am saying this too also helped make her.

His face is unreadable until an agonizing second later, he bursts into laughter. The sound of it dances to my ears, sounding so alien and unexpected that it takes me by surprise. I join in a second later, once I realize that the laughter is not precipitating some kind of mental breakdown, and find that there is such amazing relief to letting go like this that I want to hold onto this feeling just a little longer.

Tom comes down from the laughter and says, “I really like that.”

“Really? I was worried for a second,” I confess to him, still fending off giggles.

“Why?” he asks, frowning underneath the smile.

“Oh,” I say, unaware that I was going to have to clarify. Now I feel stupid. “Well, because… really, I didn’t make her myself. You know what I mean?”

“Oh, oh,” he says, comprehension finally dawning on his features. He wars for a moment but then shakes his head, saying, “No, it’s fine. After all, you did the heavy lifting when it came to making her.”

I give him a relieved smile, conveying my thanks that he didn’t choose to use another thing against me. I feel that maybe this will turn into a pleasant day. My shoulders start to feel lighter and the pit in my stomach is lessening. This is the Tom I am starting to remember, the Tom I fell so wildly in love with. I am happy to see this Tom.

“I did, didn’t I?” I answer him quietly, trying not to scare him off with anything too heavy.

“How was it, by the way?” he asks abruptly, as though getting it out took a lot more effort than I realize.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Carrying her,” he says, nodding toward her. I look to Emma and then back to Tom, my brow furrowed in even deeper confusion. I have no idea why he is asking this, and then as I stare at him, trying to decipher the meaning, I see it. If he had been here, he would have been with me through the pregnancy, but he got to experience none of it. I have heard that there are some men who actually want to experience that aspect of having a baby as well. I think these men are insane to want to put up with a pregnant woman for nine months, but if they want to be a part of it, who am I to question it? I realize now though, with a sinking heart, that Tom is one of these men.

“Well,” I say, leaning back, gearing up to give him the story. If he’s willing, and I see that he is as he leans in to listen. “Honestly, it was a little rough on me,” I tell him. I don’t want to lie to him and tell him that the pregnancy was easy when it really wasn’t, but I don’t want him to know that the reason it was so rough was because I needed and missed him so badly. “I found out I was pregnant while I was still in California and spent the next couple of months negotiating getting back home to Michigan.” I take a deep breath, trying to push away the memories that plague my mind when I have to recall that time of my life. It was so hard on me, knowing I was carrying the child of a man I would probably never see again. The true depth of my loneliness was so tested in this aspect that bearing the thought of staying in California to have and raise my baby was completely unthinkable. There was no question that I needed to go home where I was familiar and had some support. I look up then and see that Tom’s jaw is set in stone again. he doesn’t appear angry, necessarily, but I can’t imagine he likes hearing that I had to go through all of this alone when things could have been so different had I just made a phone call. “It was not fun, trying to not get too stressed out with everything. The harder I tried to relax the sicker I got,” I tell him, remembering the days when I wouldn’t even move from the bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers sadly.

I give him a reassuring smile, answering, “It’s not your fault,” and then I pause and smirk, “well, maybe it is a little bit.”

Tom tenses his jaw again and doesn’t say anything in response to my joke. I feel my stomach turn but I don’t question why this small comment has upset him. In essence, I’m right, but something about it must have reminded Tom that he wasn’t there to see me through it.

“Anyway, after I came home and got settled in I started feeling better,” I say, trying to remember everything from nearly five years ago. “After that, it was a little smoother. I was pretty healthy, had some weird cravings, but mostly I was just a total bitch.”  
This finally earns me another smile. “What, you?” he says, incredulous. “I could never imagine that in a million years.”

I roll my eyes at him and give him an evil smirk because I know he is teasing me. “You wouldn’t have appreciated it, I can tell you that right now,” I say to him, chuckling.

“Why do you think that?” he asks, completely serious.

I have to laugh as I answer, “Oh you would have not liked me too much by the end. I was completely evil, I’m surprised Molly even showed up at the hospital when I went into labor.”

“I have a hard time believing that you could scare me off so easily,” he says with a chuckle of his own.

“I highly doubt that,” I say, shaking my head. I glance back at Emma, who appears to be wrapping up what she’s doing. I suspected as much, it has been a good little chunk of time since we sent her on her way.

And then I hear him speak so softly that I have to strain to hear him; “I wouldn’t have left for anything.”

My heart is in my throat and tears mist my eyes yet again. I want to speak and I need to say something but as soon as I open my mouth, Emma is behind me with her coloring book and crayons, handing them over and telling me that she is bored and wants to play with her bubbles. I have to swallow what I am about to say to Tom, flash him an apologetic smile, and turn to grab the bottles I have brought for Emma to play with.

I am going over the rules with her once again about how to handle the bubble wand. She has heard this time and time again, but I feel the need to say them every single time. I tell her to be careful, not to splash or shake the wand too hard, to blow them away from people, and to not be too stingy when there are others that want to play as well. Fortunately, she is the only one here this time so I shouldn’t have a sharing issue on my hands.

I start tying her hair up so she doesn’t get a bunch of soap on it and she turns to look up at me. “Mommy, can I show Tom how to make bubbles?”

“Oh, baby, I think he might know how to make bubbles already,” I tell her, finishing her hair and kneeling down to face her.

“But-but he didn’t even know how to swing!” she tells me, shrugging, as if this is the final word and she is completely correct.

“That’s true, baby, but –” I start, but stop when Tom kneels down next to me, so close that our legs are touching. The heat from that part of my body shoots through my blood and I feel my heart start to race and my breathing hitch. There’s no way I can be in this man’s close proximity without going completely ballistic.

“You’re absolutely right,” he says, cutting me off. “I do not know how to blow bubbles. I think your mummy’s going a little mad, don’t ya think?”

“Are you mad, Mommy?” she asks, concern spreading across her face. I instantly laugh, because she is still so young she doesn’t realize that Tom doesn’t necessarily talk the way we do. Tom laughs at this as well, forgetting the language barrier as well. We share this for a moment before I answer her.

“No, no, baby, Tom just meant I’m crazy,” I explain, tickling her when I say this last word. Her high pitch giggles instantly shift the mood and she understands what we are talking about.

“Yeah, mommy, I think you’re crazy!” she declares, bending over to pick up her bubbles.

I peer over at Tom, his face close but not nearly as close as it was in the parking lot before. I take a deep breath and ask quietly, “Do you mind playing bubbles with her?”

“Of course not,” he says, giving me a wide smile and I can tell that he is more than sincere, he is excited.

“I think Tom is going to let you teach him how to make bubbles, baby,” I say, bringing her in for a quick kiss on the cheek. “But make sure you listen to him, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy,” she says against my neck as I hug her, and then release her to stand up with Tom.

Emma lifts her head up then, a bright, anxious smile on her face as she peers over at Tom. I take a step back to allow them the chance to run away from me again and start playing, but something else happens first. It’s right then that the world around the three of us seems to completely fade away as I watch the sweetest, most wonderful thing happen right in front of my weary eyes. It is something that I know will forever stay burned in my memory, something I know that I am never going to truly appreciate as much as I do at this exact moment.

Tom is standing next to me, his hands at his sides as he waits for Emma to take the lead. In reality, the entire thing took less than five seconds, but as I watch, it seems to happen in slow motion. Emma takes a couple of steps toward Tom, and without even thinking about the fact that she just met this man a couple of days ago, she reaches her tiny little hand up and slips it carefully into Tom’s much larger one.

I feel my heart skip a beat, my entire body swimming cold with an immeasurable number of emotions that I cannot even put into words. My nose tingles as I feel the fresh wave of incoming tears. This moment is so precious and so undeniably perfect and amazing that I wish I could capture it and keep it forever. I watch as Tom’s face softens so much that he looks almost ten years younger. He stares down at their joined hands, tightens his grip on her, and breathes one long, heavy breath, and then follows her into the field.

I stand in awe for a long time, unaware that I haven’t moved a single inch since Emma grabbed onto Tom. My hand is on my chest, trying to steady my beating heart and I have forgotten it is there. I have also forgotten how to control the copious flow of tears that now cascade down my cheeks in rivers. I am a complete mess and watching Tom and Emma chase one another as they blow bubbles is altogether overwhelming.

Now that the first contact has been made, Tom is more comfortable reaching out and being affectionate. He does it incrementally, I notice. At first, she is high fiving him whenever she makes a halfway decent bubble. After a while he is holding onto her hands as she blows the bubbles to make sure she is steady. Eventually, Tom is trying to get her to understand the trick of making big bubbles by blowing into the wand slowly, so he crouches down, wraps his arms around her, and shows her how to do it while cradling her against him. She places a steadying hand on his leg, twisting her fingers around his impatiently as he shows her this trick.

I can’t help but beam from ear to ear, watching this incredible bond between them strengthen. It’s as though I am witnessing what it must have been like for Tom and me to bond. It’s really something seeing a connection begin and weave together. I can tell that whatever Emma and Tom may share in the future will be a strong bond, and I am glad for that.

In fact, I am exceedingly glad for that.

The day stretches on much in this fashion and it is only when I look at my phone to see what time it is that I have to put my foot down about ending the afternoon. Emma and Tom both seem disappointed and I am fine with being the bad guy. Someone has to be and it might as well be Mom.

I turn to gather up our stuff, packing it all away in the bags I have brought with us. I find it odd how I brought more stuff with us than we’re leaving room and somehow I have less room in the bags than before. I roll my eyes at this, huffing to myself that the day just needs to end, and picking everything up. I haven’t heard Emma in a minute or two so I need to make sure she’s not wearing Tom too thin.

As I turn around I nearly drop the bags I’m holding. Tom is holding Emma in his arms, her own arms slung across his shoulders as she dozed lightly. He gives me a big, bright smile and puts a finger to his lips to indicate that she is indeed sleeping. I smile just as brightly back up at him, my heart swelling as he rocks her back and forth and lightly rubs her back as she sleeps. I fight the urge to race forward and kiss him. He is so sweet and wonderful to Emma and I know that he already loves her very much. There is something so comforting in this that I want to just be wrapped up in it with him.

I fight the urge, though and we head back up to the parking lot. Even though Tom is carrying my daughter he still offers to help me with the bags but I insist that I can handle it this time. He is handling something much more precious to me.

Once we get back up to the cars I feel my heart sink a little bit at the prospect of ending this wonderful day, unsure of when we are going to have a chance to do this again. I know Tom will be in town a little while longer but I have no idea how often he wants us to get together. I hit the button on my clicker and pop the trunk open. I carefully load everything in and then shut it, turning back to Tom. He is still gently swaying as Emma readjusts herself in his arms. His eyes close briefly and he opens them back up and stares at me, the blue vibrant against the green flecks in his eyes. I find that I could get lost in this chasm of deep emotion.

“I was hoping I could come by tomorrow,” he tells me quietly.

I get a little bit excited at this but reel myself in quickly. I nod. “That sounds fine to me. She doesn’t have school until Monday.”

“All right,” he says, and then, “thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” I say, turning back to the car and unlocking it. I open up the back driver’s side door and look back up at Tom. “You’re her father. You have every right to see her whenever you want.”

He nods, rubbing her back again, this time in an attempt to rouse her from her sleep. “Emma, darling, it’s time to go,” he says. She mumbles something indiscernible and stirs a bit. He laughs and shakes his head. “I think she’s insisting on staying asleep.”

“She usually does,” I say, extending my arms out. “I’ll take her.”

“It’s quite all right,” he says, holding up a hand to stave me off. “I’ve got her.”

“No, Tom, it’s okay, I’ll put her in the booster seat, it’s really not a big deal,” I offer again.

“I insist,” he tells me, and I have no more room to argue. I step back and let him place her in the seat in the back of the car. I have to bite my lip, hard, to resist every radical hormone that sweeps through my sexually deprived body the second he bends over in front of me.

After he sets her gently in the seat I hear her small voice asking what is going on. I knew this would wake her, but Tom manages spectacularly as he explains to her that the day is over and she has to go home but he will see her first thing tomorrow.

“Do you promise?”

“Of course I promise, and a prince always keeps his promises,” he tells her, placing one hand on his heart as he makes this declaration. After he buckles her in, he gives her a wide grin, saying, “You, my darling, are ready.”

Tom is still in the car with Emma when I poke my head in and say, “What do you say to Tom?”

“Thank you,” she manages through a yawn.

“Okay, baby, say goodbye, we have to get home,” I tell her.

I know my heart is about to break as I watch them say goodbye to one another but not for the first time that day I am surprised and touched at what I witness next. Instead of just saying goodbye flippantly, Emma leans forward and throws her arms around Tom’s neck, hugging him as tightly as she can. He is surprised for a beat but then hugs her back. They stay in this embrace for a few seconds before Emma shifts her head and gives him a warm kiss on the cheek.

I have vowed I will cry no more tears today but I know that vow is completely broken as Tom registers the kiss and I watch as his whole face lights up. If it were me in his position, I would want to immediately tell that child that I loved them, but given the circumstances it is probably not a great idea to say that. It may confuse her.

Instead, Tom steps out of the car, closes the door, and turns to me, a sad smile on his face. I see the mist in his eyes as well, those tears that he is strong enough to keep at bay. I so desperately want to throw myself into his arms, wrap my own arms around his neck and drink in his lips, but I know that it’s a desire I am going to crave for the rest of my life.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Samantha,” he whispers, side stepping me and going around to his car without a second word.

I watch, incredulous, as he jumps in and takes off without a second glance back. I feel the beginnings of an irrational anger start in my chest, so confused and upset by his attitude toward me out of nowhere. We were having a wonderful day, he bonded with his daughter in a way I didn’t expect, and I felt as though we were starting to become, at the very least, friendly. Apparently, I was wrong.

As angry as I am about his hostility after what seemed to be a good day, the truth is that none of this even touches the real, deep reason why I am so angry.

After all this time, not being together, and wondering whether we’d ever actually be together again after the promises that were made, I want a lot of things. I wish for so many different things to happen to us, but above all else, I just want it to be a little harder for Tom to keep walking away from me.


	18. Chapter 18

Day Seven

“Please tell me it’s not morning.”

Sammy was pressed up against Tom, her eyes squeezed shut tightly against the bright daylight streaming in through the window. Her arm was wound around his waist and her head was buried in her spot against his chest, unwilling to let this final day even begin.

He squeezed her tightly against him. “It is, my love,” he whispered to her, a sadness to his voice that she couldn’t accept.

“It can’t be, our time isn’t over yet,” she whispered back. She tried to convince herself that it wasn’t the time to cry. She knew she would shed so many tears that night when they actually had to say their goodbyes and it was silly to start it sooner than she had to. Until then, maybe if she kept her eyes shut, time could stretch on for a little while longer.

“No,” he said, kissing her head sweetly, letting his lips linger on her skin. “This is not over,” he assured her. “Our time together now is but not us. This love will be forever.”

“You can’t promise me that,” she said, trying not to let her voice break.

“I can promise you that,” he said, and he peered down at her, giving her a large, confident smile. “I always keep my promises.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I promise,” he said, putting a hand to his heart, “cross my heart.”

Sammy didn’t respond to him. Instead, her eyes moved down to his extended fingers, set against his chest to prove the sincerity of his vow to her. She moved her own fingers along his, intertwining them and feeling his heart beat against her skin. She knew he wanted to keep the promise and had every intention of doing so, and if their circumstances dictated that this was the end of their time, then he would have tried anything he could. Therefore, his promise was kept.

It was sad to think that this was it, but Sammy couldn’t dwell on that thought. The worst thing to do right now was focus on what they couldn’t have. It was better to focus on what they did have right now. And right now, Sammy didn’t want to accept that morning had come.

“I love you,” she whispered to him quietly, burrowing his head against him.

“And I you,” he replied. He let go of Sammy then, sitting up in the bed and staring straight down at her. “All right, Samantha Chance, I want you to sit up right now and face me on this bed.”

Sammy, completely taken aback at Tom’s behavior, stayed prone on the pillow as she frowned up at him. “What?”

“You heard me, woman,” he said with a laugh, unable to contain his humor as he ordered her around. She had to smile at his falter, it was just too adorable. “Quit your bitching, sit up, and look at me.”

“You’re crossing a fine line, Thomas,” she told him, rolling over to see him better. “Better watch your tongue.”

“I am sorry, love,” he assured, his eyes softening a bit. He extended his hand down to her and she took it, sitting up in the bed, covering herself with the sheet. She saw disappointment flash in his eyes momentarily when she didn’t let the blanket drop around her waist. She caught it, rolling her eyes and sighing heavily. “What?” he asked, a devilish grin on his face as he laughed, his tongue poking out of his mouth. Sammy bit her lip, trying to keep from launching herself at him. He was so, so sexy.

“What do you want with me now?” she said, sitting up straight for him before he could tell her why he’d wanted her up in the bed with him. She couldn’t suppress the happy beam she bestowed on him, so very much in love with this man right now. This was the love she would always remember and always cherish, and she didn’t want a single second to pass unappreciated. They had decided to keep each other company in the room the whole day before. They’d had food delivered to them, taking the time to really examine each other and talk, exchanging all the information they wanted to make sure they both took with them the next day. While not leaving the hotel room may have sounded to anyone else like a boring, stuffy day, but it ended up being invigorating and stretched on almost all the way through the night as they enjoyed each other physically, mentally, and emotionally.

“There is a lot I want from you,” he said with a slight wiggle of his eyebrows. “But, what I desperately need from you right now is your absolute happiness.”

“What do you mean?” she asked him, frowning.

He took both of her hands in his, kissing them and squeezing them as he brought them to his chest. “You know that, above all things, I love you and have absolutely treasured every single second of the time we’ve spent together, right?”

“Of course,” Sammy said, beaming from ear to ear.

“Then you know that above everything else that I want from you, I only want your happiness.”

“I do know that.”

“So if you want me to sit here all day and promise you that someday, we’ll find our way back to one another, then you have to do me a favor and promise me that you’ll just be happy.”

“When, now?”

“No,” he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head with an amused smirk on his face. “No, Samantha, not just now. Be happy always. You are one of the most beautiful, spiritual, engaging, and completely enrapturing people I’ve ever met and I never ever want you to lose your spirit.”

Sammy arched an eyebrow at him. “Lose my spirit? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I meant no offense,” he said quickly, squeezing her hands in his. “What I meant is…” he took a deep breath and rolled his eyes, muttering quickly, “This is not going how I expected,” and with a short chuckle, got on with his explanation. “I meant to say that I don’t want you to ever think for one second that you shouldn’t live your life completely because you are unhappy, for any reason. At the end of the day, I’m a man, no one and nothing else, and I am not worth an unlived, unhappy life. I will not even live a full life if I am sure that your spirit has been crushed.” He brought her hands up to his lips again, closing his eyes and letting his eyelashes lightly brush the soft skin of her fingers. He peered up at her, his eyes wide and pleading as he implored, “Please don’t let that happen.”

“I-I…” she began, unsure of how to even begin to assure him that this was a possibility. Did she really know how she was going to feel after they parted ways? Sammy suspected she would be devastated and lonely for many days and that eventually, life would start to go on. Sammy also knew that because she had known the touch of Tom’s love that she would never be able to find someone so suited to her romantically. That part of her life would be over for a long, long time, and she didn’t know if she had quite come to terms with that.

She came back around to the same dilemma. Could she really tell Tom that she was going to promise him to be happy? After all, there were times when she wouldn’t have any control over it, and she wanted to be as honest and sincere with him as they always were.

And then she realized that if Tom could promise that their time wasn’t over without necessarily knowing whether outside circumstances would allow for their reunion, then she could certainly do the same without technically lying to him. So, Sammy decided to take a chance and lean forward slowly, pressing her lips against his cheek, closing her eyes and allowing the kiss to linger before she pulled away slowly and breathing into his ear, “I promise.”

She felt him sigh in relief and he turned his head then to catch her lips in his. Sammy felt as though he might have wanted to initiate something more with this kiss, but she was pleasantly surprised to find that it was so much more than that right then. He folded her into his arms and pulled her close, pouring himself into her as completely as a person could without actually making love. Sammy accepted him, letting him pass through her heart and soul, never questioning for a minute whether or not it was a good idea.

When Tom broke the kiss off, he rested his head against hers, his chin pressed into his shoulder as he held her close. “You can’t ever lose your love and your spirit.”

“And you should never lose your passion and your reverence,” she told him. Of every single thing she loved about Tom, Sammy had to admit that her true reason for falling so head over heels in love with this man was the fact that he approached every single thing in his life as a wonderful, intriguing challenge. She admired that someone could look at life that way, like every day was going to be the best day ever.

“You know me well, Samantha,” he said, reaching a hand up to stroke her messy blonde hair. “I love that in only seven short days you have come to really understand who I am.” He raised his head and placed a sweet kiss against her temple as he sighed, saying, “So few people really know me well.”

“We know each other,” Sammy offered him, leaning her head against his. “You know more about me than a lot of people ever have.”

“Is that true?” he whispered, sounding disbelieving.

“Are you kidding me?” she said, sitting back now to look at him. He had a half-cocked smile on his lips, as though her answer was about to amuse him. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him but continued on. “I had no one growing up, really. No member of the family that I connected with or was especially close to, given that I had no siblings. I’ve known my best friend Molly Walker since we were about twelve and in school together, but what you and I have is just so much different, so much deeper than anything I’ve shared with anyone. You know me in a different, intimate way.”

“I’m still not sure that’s entirely true,” he answered her.

“What do you mean?” Sammy asked him, frowning. “I’m not lying to you.”

“I don’t think you’re lying, necessarily.”

“Necessarily?”

“Dammit, I’m doing it again,” he said, stopping and chuckling before continuing. “I think you’ve forgotten that you were married, love.”

All traces of humor faded from Sammy’s face as she stared at Tom. He immediately realized that he had once again said the wrong thing.

“Oh, shit, what did I say?” he asked.

“Tom, I love you, but you really do have a tendency to run your mouth,” she said, sitting back from him, feeling a little bit unsettled. Sammy wasn't sure why she felt so sick at his comment, but she was. It was as though he were trying to remind her of a relationship that didn’t work while simultaneously questioning her ability to gauge how deep her feelings ran. It was a double insult and it felt like a slap across the face.

“So sorry, love,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry,” she told him. “I’m just a little frustrated with you, that’s all.”

“Frustrated, why?”

“I just…” she started, and defeated, threw herself onto her back. She covered her face with her hands and tried to articulate her feelings so she could properly tell him what was going through her mind and not cause an argument because she misspoke.

“What is it, heart? I really want to know what I’ve said or done that’s made you so cross,” Tom said, stretching out next to her, propping his head up on his hand and staring down at her.

“Well it’s like this,” she explained. “I’m not like you, I don’t wear every single thought and feeling on my sleeve and expect it to all just… go well. There’s been too much hurt in my world for me to believe that it just happens like that anymore. You reminded me of a relationship that didn’t work, one that I worked my ass off on, by the way, as if I’ve forgotten that it existed. But I don’t forget easily, I assure you. Nothing is forgotten for me, I just choose to hide it in the deepest, darkest place in my heart so that I learn from it and don’t make the same mistakes.”

Sammy quit speaking then and Tom remained silent, waiting for her to finish. She turned her gaze away from the ceiling of the hotel room to look at him. His face was mostly unreadable, but she knew he was starting to feel a little regret for what he had said earlier. Sammy didn’t feel too bad for telling him like it was. The man had never lost his parents and been divorced all in the course of two years.

“You are…” she reached her left hand over and lightly touched his rough chin, letting her fingers drift up his jawline, marveling at how beautiful he was. “You are…” Sammy laughed and continued, “infuriating, frustrating, maddening, and altogether ridiculous, and you’re giving me a headache.”

“Thanks, love you too,” he said, laughing at her, still confused.

“But that’s just it,” she said, turning on her side now to face him, explaining. “I felt all of that with Zach, and more. He was always making me angry, making me feel inadequate and unwanted, just not willing to give me any of his love in return for all the love I poured into him…” she smiled at Tom as he looked sad for her. “It’s really okay, because you are nothing like that, and that’s what I was trying to tell you this whole time.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I feel all of the same things for you, that frustration and that annoyance, but you want me, and you love me in this deep, visceral way, something I can’t even begin to describe. It’s like I said before, you and I have this connection that exists on some other reach of time, another plane of existence, and it’s hard to even fathom that it belongs in this world.” She paused to take a breath, seeing the smile widening across his face as comprehension finally dawned in his earth shattering blue-green eyes. “That’s why you’re different than anyone else I know.”

Tom’s words were not necessary after Sammy spoke. He rolled over and threw his arm around her waist, his hand creeping up her back as he pulled her ever closer. Sammy felt from the ferocity of his grip that he was trying to press her into his soul as deeply as he possibly could. His expression was so intense; his eyes ablaze with every single momentous feeling in his heart, so much that Sammy knew could not be expressed in words. There were no words in the English language that could even come close to what this was.

When Tom brought Sammy to his lips then, it was more than just an ordinary kiss. This was the stuff of legends, the kind of kisses that fairytales revolved around, that woke princesses from slumber and brought civilizations to their knees. This, this whirlwind of tumultuous freedom was so fantastic that all Sammy could do was clutch Tom’s bare shoulders and hold on for dear life.

It continued so long that Sammy almost felt as though they were taking themselves to another planet, another part of their dimension. This was something she was sure she would never experience completely, one hundred percent sober, but here they were. Behind her closed eyelids and her moving, undulating lips pressed against Tom’s she could see the blackness of the skies swirl around her, colors infusing into one another, creating colors she had never seen before and couldn’t possibly imagine naming. She was soaring through all of it, experiencing it not sequentially, but concurrently, forcing all of it into her mind, her heart, her very soul. This was something that was not explainable by any physical, true phenomenon.

Tom gripped her tightly and she felt everything flash all at once and the events of their future played itself out in front of her, just for her enjoyment. Hope and a warm, beautiful flood of amazing love and pure, unadulterated bliss pumped through her veins. She was ecstatic, so unbelievably happy and mesmerized that she didn’t even think for a second to question if what she was seeing was just her imagination or if through the power of his lips against hers, Tom was able to make her see the plans of their forever.

Slowly but surely, they were both brought down to earth. Sammy could wiggle her toes again and began to realize that she could feel a tingling sensation traveling back up over her body until she was fully back and aware that she was a physical being. Tom pulled away from her then and stared into her, his eyes so brilliant with shooting stars and bright fireworks that she was immediately aware that what they had experienced was real, and most importantly, they had experienced it together.

“Fucking hell, Samantha,” he whispered. “That was absolutely incredible. What just happened?”

“We were angels, Tom,” she told him, her heart pounding and her blood racing. She saw beads of sweat appear on Tom’s brow then as the realization of what happened hit his eyes all over again.

“I can’t… I can’t believe I… I…”

Sammy put a finger over his lips to silence his sputtering. He stopped and met her eyes again as she spoke, “Let’s not dissect it. Let’s enjoy it.”

Tom did as he was told, bringing her close as he wrapped his arms up underneath hers, pulling her on top of him. As he peered up at her, his bright blue eyes shining brilliantly, he pushed her falling hair out of her face and cupped her cheeks, stroking the skin of her face lightly with his thumb. He wetted his lips again with the lightest touch of his tongue, raking his eyes over her as though he had no choice but to drink in every single part of her.

There was desperation that they could both feel now. This was it. This was the end of their time together and they only had a few hours remaining before Tom would meet back up with his publicist and get into a car that would ultimately take him to the airport and away from her for good. They both felt their time dwindling away slowly.

“Right now all I need for you to do is kiss me with everything in you, Tom, even if it hurts,” she whispered, and he did just that, his lips soft, exploring, and always warm. He pulled back, his lips still swollen from the contact and her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Hold me?”

The crack in her voice was Tom’s undoing. The mist that fogged his own ocean blues immediately streamed out of his eyes and rolled down his face onto the bed sheet below him. His long, toned arms wound around her and he held her against his chest, tightly, as though budging even a fraction of an inch she would be lost.

“This makes you seem so much more real,” she whispered against him. If this was to be their last time together, then she wanted to make it count. She needed to say everything because after all, he wanted them to be honest. “I never thought, in my craziest fantasies, that I would be lying here with you, Tom Hiddleston, a man who knows so much and meets so many beautiful, beautiful people every day.” He rolled his eyes at her through a choked laugh. “I’m serious. I always know you’re just Tom, but right now, looking down at you, I need to know that you’re real and that you’re here with me, and that above anyone else in this entire world that you could be with, you’re here with me. And you love me.”

He smiled a wide, sad smile, and pushed her hair back again, sniffling in spite of himself and taking a deep breath. He didn’t seem to be able to have the courage to speak quite yet. That was fine with Sammy, she needed all of this to be spoken.

“And even if this is the only moment we have left,” she sighed, closing her eyes and allowing tears to run out of her eyes and drip into her tangled hair, “you’re mine, and there’s no denying that. You’re going to be mine in a way no one else has ever had you. And I’m okay with that, because in this short, short week you’ve managed to shatter my defenses and break down all my walls. I’ve taken this huge leap forward emotionally, and now I’m feeling more healed and put back together than I have in a long, long time…” she squeezed her eyes shut again as she held onto him for dear life, amazed that he was able to do this for her and breathe new life into her at all. For that, she would be eternally grateful. “And even though we’ve only had a week and even though this might be the end of our time together, I know that every second I’ve been with you counted. The value of each minute means more to me than the longest years on my own, and it’ll matter for this time because you’re here, and you’re mine.”

Tom took a deep, shaky breath that Sammy could feel against her cheek, and she gave him one more tight squeeze before lifting her head to smile at him reassuringly. She wanted him to know that no matter what she was here right now and nothing was going to change that.

“In the grand scheme of things, when I go to live the rest of my life, maybe I’ll come to the realization that I was completely mad to have jumped in head first with someone I couldn’t stay with,” he began, lightly tracing the curve of her cheeks with his fingertips. “Or maybe it was the smartest damn thing I could have ever done with my life… But it’s like… You’ve woken me up to a new way of thinking, a new consciousness almost. This love… it’s transformed me. You have changed me with your big, bewitching brown eyes, and I will forever be a different man because you were in my life. And for that, I will be eternally yours, no matter the time or the distance.”

“So let’s take this moment,” Sammy said, closing her eyes and letting the wet tears spill through her already soaked eyelashes. “Since we’re here, together, and we’ll love each other the most intimate way we know how.” A mischievous grin spread across her lips. “Let’s have sex so damned good we both won’t need any for years to come.”

He laughed in spite of everything, that soft chuckle she had come to adore. “Even though this is the end of our story for now…”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interrupted. “We may have gone into this with our eyes wide open, but this moment, this is just for us, because we’re together, and what we’ve shared cannot be erased from our memories or our souls. You know that. Together we’re brighter than any star.”

He eagerly continued. “And no matter what, no matter how far apart we drift or how many years it takes us to find our way back to each other, I always want you to know that when you look up into the sky and you see the light of those brilliant stars, I’ll be looking up there, too, and I’ll be thinking of you. I’ll think of holding you, protecting you, loving you, and I’ll remember this moment right now where you and I are together, and for that brief moment, we’ll cross time and space to be together.”

“I love you, Tom Hiddleston.”

“I love you, Samantha Chance.”

And with this last word spoken, Tom and Sammy enveloped each other for the final time, both crying, both begging the universe to not let this end so quickly. When Tom penetrated her, Sammy remembered the glorious feeling of being connected to Tom in this way, noticing how amazing it felt this last time, being wrapped around him, her senses absolutely full of this man, this life changing enigma of a soul that would forever complete her.

As they climaxed together, Sammy’s eyes flooded with tears and her body wracked with sobs while Tom held her and they understood what had happened here, in this one short week that they shared together.

This was it.


	19. Present Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Smut warning!!! This was my favorite chapter to write and one of the hardest, most emotional ones I've written. Please enjoy and be warned!!

Present Day

I wake up the next morning feeling like complete and utter crap. Leaving the park last night was no picnic for me after spending all of that time with Tom. I am happy for Emma, who chattered away, asking a barrage of excited questions on our way home while the entire time, I seethed in the front seat. I was angry at home all night up until the point where Emma was in bed and I had a moment to sit down and let things play out in my head. I tried to relax, poured myself a glass of wine and listened to my music, but it didn’t work. Nothing did the trick.

So I tried, instead, to go to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, remembering the haunted look in Tom’s eyes as he left me that day. It upsets me that after all this time he has not even been able to tell me once that he is happy to see me again. Granted, other things have popped up during our reunion, but you’d think of all the opportunities he had, he could have at least tried to say it once.

He doesn’t even care, and that completely contradicts all of the memories I still hold onto of our time together. I recall every word spoken, every promise made, that last moment we shared in the hotel room where we embraced and soared together through the stars. It was all so special, and now he was here, acting as though none of it mattered and never happened.

This was why I didn’t want to see him again. My wonderful memories are tarnished and will never, ever be the same, sweet memories I held onto for so long. Tom is different now, and as much as I want to change it, I can’t, because above everything else, I still love him in the deepest way imaginable.

This morning, though, I start it with a big cup of coffee and a splitting migraine because of the lack of sleep. Emma wants Tom badly, and I feel my heart wrenched in two when I have to tell her that I do not know when he’ll be around today. I don’t want to even remotely think about it, and the fact that she can’t shut up about him is just making my denial harder and harder to hide behind.

I feed her breakfast and sit down with my hot coffee, trying desperately to will my migraine away. While Emma continues to ask questions about her ‘prince,’ I wonder if and when Tom calls what we should do that day. Just as I have the thought I am answered with a loud, powerful thunderclap against the house and I see a flash of lightning. I jump, startled and turn my attention to the windows. The rain is coming down in rivers so I know there is no chance we’re going to be able to leave the house and go out today. Instead of giving into the depression that the day seems determined to force upon me, I decide that today is the perfect day to cop out and sit Emma down with a movie. She hasn’t actually had any of her allotted TV time lately, and the rainy day is the perfect setting for it.

If I can get my thoughts focused, this might be the perfect day to get some writing done.

Emma is fixed in front of Finding Nemo in her bedroom, wrapped up on her bed with her plush clownfish and a cup of chocolate milk. I pop a couple of Excedrin, trying in vain to calm my whirring head. I know the lack of sleep is not the only thing contributing to this head splitting migraine. There’s too much knocking around in there and I need to just purge myself of it. Maybe writing is the right way to go this time.

I find myself really getting into my writing when I hear Emma asking if I can replay the movie for her. I frown, looking down at the clock on the computer and see that nearly two hours has passed since I started writing. On the one hand, I’m glad time got away from me and I was actually able to get some good work done. However, I feel this unbelievable soul crushing disappointment that my phone has not gone off yet.

Out of nowhere, a fresh wave of insane anger pours through my veins. I am so irrationally hurt and upset by Tom and there really is no basis for any of it. I should not be the angry one but I can’t help it. I want to scream and hit him, demand to know what the hell he is doing in my life again if he really wasn’t going to have the nerve to at least tell me that he missed me. Why else was he here?

I get up and give Emma a big hug and thank her for being so good today.

“I love you, baby,” I tell her, gathering her into my arms and squeezing her as tightly as I can. Really, she is my life and my family, and I doubt that anyone else in this entire world can come close to it.

“I love you, too!”

I am screaming at myself in my head, trying so hard not to start crying in my daughter’s arms. I don’t want her to ask me what is going on because what am I going to tell her? She’s four, she’s immature, and she doesn’t understand all of this, but eventually she’s going to pick up on the fact that Tom and I are tense around each other. Children are so much more perceptive than we give them credit for, so I have to keep it together and pretend that everything is alright. I’m sure Tom and I make it awkward enough for her to begin with.

“Do you want me to start your movie again?” I ask her, sure that I have leveled my voice enough and am not going to start crying for no reason.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” she says excitedly, bouncing up and down and clapping her hands, her messy little ringlets flying all over the place.

“Okay, okay,” I stand up and grab the remote, hitting a couple of buttons to replay everything. I set down the controller and then turn to her. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, Mommy!”

I nod, satisfied, and leave her room then. I head out to the living room to make sure that the windows are shut tightly. The rain is still coming down in sheets, probably even harder than before, and even so, I can still make out the shape of a familiar vehicle pulling into the driveway. I immediately feel the lava bubbling in my chest, the anger that I am trying to shove back down into my stomach is starting to rise to the top like bile, and I know that this is about to get very, very ugly.

I glance back toward my daughter’s room. She is silent, transfixed by this movie she has seen more than thirty times, and as badly as I want to stay in here with her, I know I don’t want to duke this out with her in the house. She doesn’t need to hear it. I debate for a moment whether or not to grab a jacket to take out with me into the driveway but decide against it. I have to head Tom off before he gets up to my door.

Taking a deep breath and clenching my fists, I run toward the door, wrench it open, and step onto the porch. It is now or never. This is happening.

Tom is walking up from the car, his entire body already soaked through. He does not have a coat that is suited for the weather and he has opted against an umbrella. Very quickly, his curly red locks are plastered to his head, his gray shirt clinging to his chest, his nice dark jeans wet almost all the way up the back of his calf. As he turns his head to glance back at his vehicle, I see droplets of water run down the stray curls on the back of his neck and I have this insane desire to taste that water on my tongue.

I frown deeply, trying to forget the lust that is starting to make an appearance alongside my anger and take a step off of the porch toward him. I am instantly hit with the cold, fat raindrops and within only moments my hair is heavy with rainwater and I have to push the drops out of my eyes to see. I am just glad I had the foresight to put on a bra today.

We walk toward each other briskly. This is the same exact scenario that played out for us only four days ago when laid eyes on each other for the first time in over five years. A shiver runs through my body and I know it is not entirely the cold rain to blame. I cross my arms in front of myself, trying to keep the warmth in. Before we meet up, I have to say something first, get this all off of my chest because this is going to happen now or never. I can’t take another sleepless night.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I cry out. The rain is suddenly very loud as I try and talk, my breath on the cold air.

“I told you I was coming,” he says, his tone as fierce as my own. What does he have to be angry about?

“You didn’t even bother calling me?” I demand. “I’ve been waiting all morning.”

“I thought it best if I just come and do this quickly,” he says, frowning. He crosses his arms and then stares hard at me while I shiver. I know he is fighting the urge to be chivalrous.

Even though I am furious with him, I cannot help but feel the cold, icy stab of fear start in the beating of my heart. “What are you talking about? Do what quickly?”

He takes a second before he answers me. I visibly shiver once and in that single fluid moment, Tom steps closer to me, whips his brown leather jacket off of his own shoulders and throws it around mine. I want to be mad at him, but I have to admit that the gesture is much appreciated. It is awfully cold out here. Not to mention the overwhelming scent of Tom that hits me the moment the coat is draped over my arms. All at once, I feel violently ill.

“There,” he says, and takes a step back, shoving his hands in his pockets. It doesn’t take long before the areas of him that were previously dry are now soaked through as well. “I can’t do this much longer, Samantha. I just can’t do it.”

“Do what?” I ask, furrowing my brow deeply.

“I can’t keep coming ‘round, pretending that your proximity doesn’t do something to me. I want to get to know Emma, I do, but you and I…”

“We what, Tom?” I ask, my voice dangerously low.

He looks at me, his eyes full of anger and regret, but instead of giving into any of the feelings I know he wants to express, he decides to go with the anger. “Samantha, I am so damned angry with you that it hurts. I cannot even begin to express to you how upset I am.”

My jaw drops. “You’re mad? Haven’t we already been down this road, Tom?”

“We most certainly have not!” he cries. “We haven’t talked at all about this, about us. Not even a little.”

“And whose damn fault is that?” I want to screech because I am so frustrated. All of this feels as though it’s being turned around on me. “All you ever seem to want to talk about is the obligation of having to get to know your fucking daughter!”

“Obligation? Where in the hell did you ever get that idea?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“A couple of days ago at the bar, you said you wanted to ‘do the right thing.’ You act like she’s something you have to deal with, instead of the blessing that she really is. This isn’t something you ‘have’ to do, Tom. If you don’t want to deal with it, I’m more than happy to let you cut your losses and walk away,” I spit out, unable to control the anger spilling forward. “We’ve been doing fine without you for five years.”

“First of all,” he says, his hands out of his pockets now as he gestures to me while he speaks, “I would never call Emma anything other than the miracle I truly believe her to be. You know how I feel about her, you know that I want to be a part of her world because she is part of me, and I would never ever say anything to the contrary. Secondly, you are the one that decided you wanted to be alone for the past five years, that was not my doing and it certainly wouldn’t have been my choice!”

I am surprised by this, to say the least. It wouldn’t have been his choice? Would he have even had a choice? After all, the past five years had been incredibly busy for Tom. I pull his coat around me tighter as the rain starts coming down harder, almost as though it’s responding to the ferocity of this argument. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?” I scream. “These five years are gone, and they’re not going to come back.”

“Well, no shit!”

“Don’t you think I considered my decision through the moment I found out I was pregnant? Do you think this is what I wanted for me and my daughter?”

“I don’t know, Samantha, because it certainly didn’t seem to affect your decision not to tell me.”

“Don’t you dare, you son of a bitch!” I say, pointing my finger at him. “You were the one that told me that our time together was short but it wasn’t over.”

“And I was right.”

“No, god dammit, you were wrong. I gave up waiting for you after five damned years! Did you really expect me to wait this long to begin with?”

“Honestly, no,” he says, a little quieter this time. “No, I didn’t know what to expect when I came here.”

“So why?”

“What?”

“Why did it take you five years to come back for me?” Against my wishes, my voice cracks and I see the flicker of pain on Tom’s face, that same look he knows I can’t bear. My heart breaks again but I bear on. “Why was it so easy for you to just walk away from what we shared? Why? I loved you!” I say, and the tears start pouring down my cheeks. They are warm against the rivers of rain that soak my face and it is the only way to distinguish one from the other. “I was hoping you would forget everything else and come back for me, but you never did. Why was it so easy for you?” I want to collapse to the ground and sob into my hands, but I have to stay strong.

The anger was fading from Tom’s expression, his eyebrows knit together and his mouth open, waiting for me to stop talking. I hope, for a brief crazy moment, he is going to finally reach out to me, but he stays still.

“It wasn’t easy for me, Samantha,” he says, and he does take a step forward because I can’t hear him over the roaring thunder anymore and he doesn’t want to shout anymore. “It was never easy for me to leave you, or even think of leaving you… And that is exactly why it took me so long to come back to you.”

“What?” I ask, incredulous.

His voice cracks as he answers. “I should never have walked away from you to begin with. It was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve made in my thirty-six years.” He takes a deep breath and continues his confession. “I should have said ‘fuck it all’ to the entire arrangement and just scooped you up and whisked you away to London. What does it matter now what our reasons were back then? I was so afraid for so long that you would be furious with me for not coming back sooner that I kept putting it off, longer and longer, until the opportunity to come seemed to present itself.”

I am shocked at this confession. There are so many things I want to say to him but I am still so upset that I haven’t seen him in so long that it’s hard for me to wrap my tongue around the words I want to say. “We made that decision together.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, dismissing it entirely and shaking his head to emphasize this point. “You’re the woman I love and I should have just taken you with me. Damn the rules! Who were we to set rules in the first place?”

I close my eyes and let more tears cascade down my stained cheeks. “But, Tom, there’s nothing you can do now. Things are the way they are and there’s Emma…”

“I know,” he says, his jaw clenching again. “And as angry as I am about all of it, I have to say that I am coming to adore Emma… very, very much.”

“Really?” I breathe.

“Absolutely. I love her very much.”

“I’m glad for that, at least.”

A moment of silence passes between us and I shiver again. Tom closes the gap a little more and reaches out again, and then again, decides against it. I do notice, though, that he is close enough for me to see sparkles in his eyes through the pouring rain. He asks, concerned, “Would you like to go inside?”

I shake my head. “No, Emma’s in there and I prefer if she doesn’t hear this. She’s really come to like you a lot and I don’t want her to be in there when you tell me that you are leaving us.”

Tom’s eyes flash angrily before grumbles, “You know it’s the right thing for me to do.”

“I do,” I say, even though my heart is shattering around this realization. This time, when Tom leaves, my heart won’t ever heal fully.

“I can’t be around you with all of these feelings, all of this anger and frustration... and-and so much more… I just hate how angry I am about all the years that I missed out on –”

I cut him off right then, wanting to make sure he understands that even if we can’t be together, it doesn’t mean I am keeping Emma from him. “You can make those up with her and you are always welcome to come be with her whenever you want. She’s still young, and we’ll find a way to make her understand who you are. She’s so young and you have so much time left…” I want to make sure he doesn’t walk away from Emma when they’re just starting to get close.

He peers at me sadly, his beautiful lips turning down into a frown that makes my chest hurt. “And while I do appreciate that, Samantha, believe me, I understand. It’s just…” and it takes him a moment to clear his throat and answer, “I won’t get back that time… with you.”

My heart leaps in my chest but I simply frown and stare up at him. His neck is impossibly long and deliciously sexy and I find myself remembering how a line or two of soft, lingering kisses could turn him into jelly. I clear my own throat to rid the insane lust that is trying to overtake me and ask, “What do you mean?”

“Samantha,” he begins, reaching up and combing his hand through his drenched curls, spraying tiny water droplets all over the place. “If I have to be absolutely honest… Oh god…”

My eyebrows shoot up. Now I am really terrified for what he could have to say to me. “What is it, Tom?”

“It’s…”

“Say it already, dammit!” I say, losing my patience. If he’s going to end up leaving me at the end of this conversation, I just want him to finish what he has to say and leave before I lose all self-control and throw myself at his feet.

“It’s not nothing, Samantha, I’m really afraid of what you’re going to say!”

I take a deep breath, trying to tell myself that I need to remain levelheaded and not completely break down over every word out of this man’s mouth. He has no idea that there is very little he could say right now that would actually convince me to turn him away. So I opt to say nothing, gesturing for him to speak instead.

“Okay,” he says, and he runs his hands through his hair one more time before squeezing his eyes shut and then blurting, “The exact moment you told me that Emma was my daughter, I forgave you for not telling me.”

The bottom drops out in my stomach and I am not sure exactly how to react. So many conflicting emotions battle it out in my head to answer first. My mouth simply drops open and I can barely manage to squeak out a few small noises. “Huh?”

Tom takes another step toward me as he sighs and I hope he is once again going to reach out, because he seems to want to. At the last second, though, he decides against it and I feel myself get disappointed for the millionth time that day.

“I understood,” he says, his voice pleading with me. “I was surprised, shocked as hell, in fact, but I was never angry about the fact that you didn’t tell me…”

“What?” I ask, my voice low and dangerous.

“I could see from your point of view why you didn’t tell me.”

“Why do you think that is, then? You told me that my reasons weren’t important.”

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, gesturing wildly. “Your reasons are important! I suppose what I meant was that it wasn’t important for you to tell me what they were right then because I already knew. You did it to protect her.” My heart skips a beat and I am honestly surprised that he figured it out. “The moment you opened your mouth about any of this is the moment Emma would have been thrust into the media and I know neither of us wanted that.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, still unable to articulate my thoughts into formed words. “Yeah, but it was also for you.”

“What d’you mean?”

I roll my eyes. This would have been so much easier to explain a few days ago when he first found out about Emma. Now we have to do this when he is going to end up shrugging it off and walking away from me… again. “Tom… The worst of the worst kind of people are the ones that come to the media and claim that some insanely famous celebrity has something to do with their tiny, stupid lives. And you would be the worst kind of celebrity douchebag that has a brief affair with a woman and then walks away not caring what the consequences are.”

Tom interrupts angrily. “But is that what happened between us?”

“It’s not about that, Tom, it’s about your reputation and –”

“Fuck the reputation, Samantha, and answer me,” he says with some force, and I am eager to comply. “Did we have a brief affair that meant nothing and was easy for either of us to walk away from? Hmm?”

His voice carries such a note of absolute certainty that I can’t help it. I have to answer him. “No. No, we didn’t.”

“Exactly. Samantha, you can protect Emma all you want, but me, you don’t have to protect me.” He takes one more step closer to me, and now he is so close that I can feel his body heat pulsating in front of me, see the rugged outline of his chest underneath his wet, clinging t-shirt. Everything about him exudes sex and I can’t do a thing to stop it.

I want him, with every single screaming fiber of my body. I want to taste him, to touch him, to drink him in through every pore until he and I are one again. I close my eyes and try to stamp out these insane, hormonal thoughts and open them back up to focus on the task at hand. Tom’s eyes are large and sparkling as he gazes down at me. His expression is very hard to read but I have an idea that this fight has to come to an end before we do something stupid.

It takes a while as the silence fully settles in. There are thousands of unspoken words flowing through the air between us, the rain coming down as hard as ever as we stand here in this stalemate. Tom is saying he has to leave but I suspect that neither of us really wants that to happen.

Finally, Tom speaks, staring so intensely at me that I am reminded of that week so long ago, the night he told me he loved me for the first time. “I think the one thing that I just can’t seem to forgive is the fact that you didn’t let me spend these last five years with you…” He averts his gaze momentarily, biting his lip as he searches for the right words to continue, “I didn’t have the courage to come back for you… and you had this perfect reason for me to walk away from my life and be with you. And that’s what I can’t accept. I missed five years with you and I would do anything in my power to reclaim that five years.”

“I thought you were furious with me,” I whisper to him. I do not know what he is saying to me and I can’t afford to get my hopes up anymore that he will eventually see the error of his ways and decide that it is worth his time to stay with me. It is better to accept his anger and get on with it.

“I am,” he says.

“But… but you’re leaving,” I sputter.

“Yes,” he takes another step closer, and now I can make out the rain dripping from his eyelashes, the delicate rivers of water clinging to his chin before they bead off and land on the wet shirt that is hugging his glorious frame. I am afraid that this is the moment where I break down and completely beyond recovery. “Unless you give me a reason not to.”

Everything fades out around me and all the anger, frustration, sadness, and hurt dissipate into the nether. All I see now is Tom, standing here, wet, pleading, desperate and utterly, undeniably beautiful. His face is intense, his sea blue eyes on fire, and he is clenching and unclenching his fists by my sides, as though he is trying so hard to resist letting his hands roam. I feel much the same and before I can think of a single rational thing that will keep me from doing it, I throw myself heavily into his arms and press my lips against his, desperate, hungry, wanting any little piece of him that I can drink in. I want him to completely fill my senses.

Tom wastes no time in reaching around me and drawing me in close against him, holding me several inches up off of the ground with the ferocity of this reunion. His lips part as he allows me full access to his mouth, my tongue exploring and dancing against his own, as though they were meant to dance together all along. He crushes me against him ever harder, moving one hand to push the wet hair out of my face, the skin of my cheek even remembering the stroke of his fingers. Every single part of me is on fire right now and I have no time to think of anything else.

After five years of not seeing him, not speaking to him, not touching him or telling him how much I love him, we are here, expressing it without words. Tom’s lips are ravenous as they devour mine, biting my bottom lip so hard that I am sure he has broken skin. It doesn’t matter to me. I have the need as my fingers scratch into the back of his neck.

His lips break from mine as he expertly kisses the sensitive spots on my neck. My entire body shudders at this. It is a much neglected spot of my physiology that he has just reawaken. I want to take him right here in the driveway, not caring who or what could spot us or what may happen as a consequence.

“Oh, Tom,” I breathe against his ear. He responds by burying his face into my neck, biting me and torturing me with those perfect agile lips against my wet, cold skin. His hands roam my body and I can’t keep the noises from escaping at this point. It has been so long since this man (or any man) touched me and my body is more than responding to it. It is screaming for it.

“I want you right now,” he says gruffly against my lips as we continue kissing. I don’t want to answer him because I do not want to waste another minute where my lips aren’t pressed against his. I am starving, so hungry, for this man… I can’t risk letting him go again.

I break from him finally to think a moment. I don’t want us to do anything in the house for fear of Emma seeing and not understanding what is going on, but I’m not sure if having sex outside in a vehicle is advisable, either. I’m not leaving my four year old alone in the house for that long.

My fear for my daughter’s innocence prevails. “Car?” I beg, and he sets me down on the ground firmly, dissatisfaction crossing his features.

“Absolutely not,” he says, and he hooks a finger under my chin, giving me a soft but very long, delectable kiss on the lips before he stares me deeply in the eyes to answer. “I am not going to allow our first time together after five years to take place in a vehicle.” My heart swells at this and he takes me hand in his, wet and cold but wonderful and warm, and leads me back into the house. We enter quietly and as we pad into the living room, dripping onto the floor, we can hear the faint noises from Emma’s movie in the other room.

I take the lead then, putting a finger on my lips as I creep quietly toward her room. I poke my head in to check on her and find that she has fallen asleep. I breathe a huge sigh of relief, shut her door all the way, and turn back to Tom.

“She’s sleeping,” I whisper.

The insane look of desire that passes over his face is fleeting as he crosses the room in two long strides and grabs me, pulling me up against him. I wrap my legs around his waist and balance, winding my arms around his neck and delving back into his kisses. Right now, I just cannot get enough of his lips. It was one of those small details that I hadn’t remembered accurately before and it is amazing to me how good they still taste.

He asks me where to go and I guide him there. It is clumsy going because he is still unfamiliar with my house and I am blocking his vision, but we laugh and joke as we bump into the walls and try to stifle our giggles so that we won’t wake Emma. The details of our time together are coming back slowly as I remember how much fun we had together that week, all the laughing and good times… It was such a shame to have gone five years without that kind of happiness filling my days.

We finally make it to my bedroom and Tom slows down once we enter. He pauses, looking up at me with his ocean blue eyes absolutely ablaze as he whispers, “I have wanted to make love to you since the first moment I saw you.”

“Don’t stop now,” I say teasingly, leaning over to give him another sweet kiss, and I can feel him smile underneath my lips. I am so relieved that he is happy once again and that I have done my part to put that smile back on his face.

He walks me over to the bed and sets me down on my back, slowly, lovingly, and then proceeds to start undressing me. He is agonizingly methodical, his agile fingers pushing my shirt up as he lightly strokes the skin underneath. A shiver runs through my body, but I let him work his magic. It has taken so long for us to get back here and I want him to take as much time as he needs. I really want to know that he’s here.

Once my shirt is off and over my head, he works his way down to my breasts, grabbing firmly as he we kiss. He pushes the fabric of my bra aside and gently strokes the sensitive, aching peaks with his fingers. His lips work their way down my body, setting every inch of my skin on fire. His mouth finally ends up where his fingers were and he lets his tongue take over the motion. I squeal out loud at the sensation that sweeps through me. I feel as though I am seconds from climaxing already but I do not want to be overenthusiastic for whatever else he has planned. I stave it off as he gives both of my breasts due attention before he reaches behind me to unhook my bra.

Amidst all the other feelings I have right now in this event, I am also slightly fearful because this man has not seen me naked in five years. Since then, I have carried, delivered, and breast fed an infant and while I have tried hard to maintain a healthy stasis when it comes to my weight, I am fleshier than I was before and I know I have stretch marks that cannot be hidden. My stomach starts to flip flop so violently that I feel like I might be ill at any moment.

As soon as my breasts are exposed, though, Tom breathes a sigh of deep appreciation and he caresses each one lovingly. I take the opportunity to reach up and peel the wet shirt off of his back and throw it with a wet ‘smack’ right onto the floor. His chest is gleaming with the sheen of moisture from the rain and I run my hands all over him, remembering the very curve of his body. With a sigh, I realize he looks just the same, all the way down to the small tuft of curly dark chest hair.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I comment to him.

“You are the stunning one,” he says, running a hand down my body.

In the next few minutes, we take our time in ridding ourselves of the rest of our clothes and finally, we are here, lying together for the first time in over half a decade, naked on top of one another. My stomach is churning at the thought of what I must look like to him, but I can tell by every single inch of his incredibly rigid flesh that he is appreciating the view.

A look of concern passes over his face as he seems to realize that I am having some hesitation. “What is it, love?” he leans down and gives me a sweet, reassuring kiss. “Is everything all right?”

I can’t swallow what I am feeling, so with a heavy heart I confess, “I… I look different than you remember.”

“So do I,” he says, a smirk crossing his lips.

“No, no, I mean my body,” I explain to him. “I look different because… because of Emma.”

He frowns at me, seeming genuinely confused at my anxiety. “What do you mean?” He takes a moment to lift himself off of me a little to look me over and I feel that it was probably stupid to even mention it to him. He probably wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t said anything. I lay there, feeling so exposed that I want to curl up and die until he breathes, “D’you mean these?” and places his lips against the sensitive skin at my stomach, over and over while I wonder what it ever was I was even worried about.

“How could you even think for a second that anything about your breathtaking shape could be unattractive to me?” he asks me. “Everything about you is beautiful, especially the marks that make you the mother of my child.”

Before I have the chance to completely melt underneath him, he presses himself down against me, skin to skin, and kisses me deeply. I slip my arms under his shoulders and grip onto him like I always used to. I love that everything is so similar and yet so amazingly new all at the same time. Tom is just as remarkably beautiful and agile as he always was, giving care when he kisses me, nibbling here and there as we begin this all too familiar dance with one another.

My body is on fire, trembling underneath him with the anticipation as he takes his sweet time arranging himself. He stares down into me, his eyes reading into me in only the way Tom knows how. I reach up and brush his wet curls with my fingers, not wanting to rush this even the slightest bit. “I can’t believe after all this time, you’re here.”

“I’m here, I’m real,” he whispers to me, and unbidden tears start welling in my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And with one final beat, he swiftly kisses me and enters me simultaneously. I cry out, remembering the unbridled sensation that is Tom. He is an impressive size, but he absolutely fits me like we are a lock and key. I have always really loved that our bodies seem to be made for one another in this aspect.

I dig my fingernails into the skin of his shoulders as he buries himself deep, deep inside of me and rocks his hips in slow, insistent circles as my much untouched center envelopes him completely. There is nothing more perfect and right in this moment than us, locked at our most intimate parts.

His hands are roaming all over me, touching and squeezing and gripping and clawing every single inch. I do the same, my fingers raking through his hair again and again, down his shoulders, his arms, his hands, his fingers, his chest… I bite at the smooth skin of his chest as he cries out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, cramming his lips down against mine and thrusting himself ever deeper. His hips were magical and held the power of the gods in one blazing infinite motion.

Tom buries his face into my neck, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close to his chest as his rhythm picks up. I wind my arms around his neck and hold onto him tightly. He brings me up to a sitting position so that we are both facing each other, me in his lap while he never stops moving inside of me.

“Oh god,” I breathe, throwing my head back. Tom lifts his head and snakes a trail of hot, wet kisses down my exposed neck to my waiting breasts and down as far as he can reach before I come back to him and bury my lips into him again. I never want this moment to end.

It is then that Tom decides it is time to bring me to the very point of my blinding pleasure. His fingers know the way all too well and he moves them magically against the most sensitive, quivering part of my anatomy. The building ecstasy starts low but is sharp and beautiful all at once. My vision blurs as Tom works his magic, throwing me back against the bed and moving his fingers ever faster as the speed of his undulating pelvis picks up as well.

I take that final moment before my orgasm to gaze up into Tom’s face. Those eyes are so close to mine and I see in them the regret, the loss, the anger and everything we’ve shared disappearing as we both come close to our breaking point, together. He pushes himself in me and whispers, “Samantha… Samantha… I love you.”

“Tom,” is all I can manage because I am there, cresting this riptide of pleasure that has just completely seized my body. From the tips of my toes up to the top of my head, I am in sheer ecstasy. I cry out loudly, unable to control what noises I make with the intensity of this climax as on top of me, Tom thrusts into me one last time before he buries his face in my neck, moaning as slowly, we both come down from this moment of sheer brilliance and ecstasy and fall together, worn out.

We don’t speak for a few minutes. We both pant heavily, lying in an exhausted embrace when out of nowhere a chuckle starts deep in Tom’s chest. I peer up at him, half amused until I see his wide, toothy grin through his laughter and it is my undoing. I start laughing as well, and before long, we are two crazy, naked people laughing maniacally in unison. The absurdity of it just makes it funnier.

Once we calm down, I have to stare at Tom, taking in every single fraction of his face so that I can commit it to memory. I’m not going to sully this perfect moment by wondering what this all means and where it is going to go. Instead, I’m going to make sure I have Tom’s face perfectly mapped out in my mind before it ends. There is one thing I can’t resist, though, and I give voice to the thought.

“Did you mean what you said, Tom?”

“What? I said a lot of things, Samantha.”

I peer down bashfully and then look back up at him, sighing, “Do you still love me?”

“Oh, my love,” he whispers, gathering me to him and squeezing me tight. I close my eyes against him and breathe him in, allowing him to fully overwhelm my senses. I don’t care what happens now, because for this short moment, I have Tom again and I am not letting him go. “I have always loved you, and I’ll never stop.” He lifts his head and gives me one last, lingering kiss before we both feel the pull of our bodies to reconnect already. He takes a moment before we begin a second time to push the hair out of my face and kiss me sweetly on the nose, eyes, cheeks, and mouth before he whispers one last thing to me, something that makes me swoon and forget any time has passed at all.

“You are my miracle.”


	20. Five Years Ago: Day Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks everyone for sticking with the story!!! Chapter 19 was my crowning achievement, so I am excited for you to read the last few chapters!!! There are 5 left XD Loves!!

Five Years Ago: Day Seven

Sammy had absolutely no intention of ever getting off of the bed. They had just finished their wonderfully luxurious love making, taking their precious time because they both knew, implicitly, that it was the last time they would be able to connect this intimately. Sammy couldn’t help but smile to herself. If this had to be their last time together, she was more than pleased. It was probably the best they’d had.

She knew the exact timeline of the day, they had discussed it infrequently while they were together, but she didn’t need a reiteration of the exact moment the love of her life would disappear. He explained to her that he would have to disappear for a little bit, sometime midday, to assure that all of his bags and things were packed up in his room and sent down to the town car that would take him to the San Diego airport. Once he made sure everything else was in order, he would call up his publicist, Luke, and make sure everything else was settled for him to leave. His flight from San Diego to London was due to board at around three that afternoon, but he wouldn’t actually take off until around three-thirty. At the most, he had until around twelve o’clock in the afternoon before he had to be down there at the car. It seemed silly to Sammy for him to leave so early, but she remembered that the rigors of his celebrity probably came with an entirely different set of circumstances when it came to certain things, like flying.

Sammy knew it wasn’t worth arguing and getting upset over it. It was what he did and she knew that. She accepted it the moment he sat down next to her at the bar and bought her a drink. To be upset about him leaving so early in the day now was just silly.

For now, though, they had a little more time before Tom was supposed to leave, so they could just lie there and enjoy each other for what remained of their time. And that was exactly what Sammy planned to do.

“Are you all right, love?” he whispered then, even the most careful sound slicing right through the comfortable silence. He brushed her hair back and pressed his lips on her forehead.

“I don’t really know how to honestly answer that question,” she breathed, her arm resting on Tom’s chest. She touched him lightly with the tips of her fingers, tracing out patterns on his skin.

“And you promised to be honest,” Tom reminded her.

“I did,” she said, and then went on. “I want to be all right, but I’m not.”

“I thought so,” he answered. “I feel the same.”

Sammy lifted her head, peering up at Tom. His head was against the pillow, one arm crooked underneath while he gazed up at the ceiling. He saw Sammy staring at him, her chin resting against his chest and he gave her a sweet, happy smile and shifted his attention to her. Her dark eyes brightened as she spoke quietly. “You do?”  
He merely gave a happy sigh, smiling down at her. “Why are you always so incredulous when I reciprocate your feelings?”

“Hm,” she said, frowning and giving herself a chance to really think about it. “I don’t really know.”

“Come here, you,” he said, leaning up a little, wrapping his hands around her and yanking her up to him. She squealed in delight as he did this, absolutely swooning when she saw that special smile of his, his eyes bright and alive. This was everything to Sammy and she was so ecstatic that she had gotten the chance to be with her soul mate, if only for a brief flicker in time. They laughed together for a moment before he changed his expression to one of deep concentration, taking her in. “Quit behaving as though you’re the only one invested. Dammit, you know how much I love you.”

Sammy forgot how to breathe momentarily. “I do?”

“Of course you do,” he said, rolling his eyes. His right hand came up and cupped her cheek, caressing the soft skin with the pad of his thumb. He peered into her eyes and it felt as though he were exploring the very depths of her soul. “Don’t you remember anything that’s happened between us, all of the clues I’ve given to you as to exactly how enamored of you I really am?”

Sammy sighed and closed her eyes, the promise of oncoming tears tickling her nose. She retraced her steps, all the way back to their very first meeting and tried to pay attention to all the clues.

“I am so sorry, it must be my nerves or something.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen here.”

“Do you believe that people are meant to cross paths in their lifetimes?”

“I don’t know about you, but what I felt last night was just so… real.”

“What is life and love if we don’t risk anything at all, Samantha? Why wouldn’t you want to put it all on the line, if it means for one spectacular, shining moment you can feel something spectacular, something you’ve never felt before?”

“You must realize that you are not hard at all to forget, and you are certainly not easy to toss away.”

“Don’t ever feel like you aren’t enough for me, Samantha. Because you are slowly becoming my everything.”

“If I could, Samantha, I’d tell everyone in the whole world just how happy I am when I’m with you. I’d write it in the sky, shout it from the rooftops, all the old clichés. And why would I want to share you with anyone else?”

“It’s like our own little piece of heaven. You and me, here, at the perfect moment, together. It’s like nothing really ever mattered until this moment in time, when we’ve found each other.”

“It’s not about remembering what we did. It’s about remembering me, me Tom, the man who… the man who so desperately loves you.”

“Why not just feel it all as intensely and brightly as we can? Why did we even choose to spend this week together if we didn’t think this was a possibility? This love, this connection, this feeling like my soul has been searching for you, and here you are.”

“I know it in my heart. I know it in my soul. This is not the end of our story.”

Sammy came back to the present then, her eyes completely flooding with tears at the memories swimming through her mind. She felt so much all at once that her heart felt as though it were about to burst right out of her chest. She simply made a small, sobbing noise, and Tom needed no more provocation. He pressed his lips against hers, hungrily, desperately, his hand firm against her cheek as he gripped her, pulling her in ever closer so that nothing could break them apart.

This was going to be the hardest thing that either of them had to do. Sammy had married and divorced a man she had practically worshipped and buried both of her parents, all in the course of two years. This, however, was going to be something completely unheard of when it came to the amount of pain involved. She was walking away from this man willingly. She was not losing Tom to death or divorce. They were both willing participants in the eventual destruction of this relationship.

It was almost too much to bear.

They pulled apart from the kiss and Sammy wasn’t sure if she could find the words to speak, but luckily, Tom did that for her.

“Darling, I couldn’t even contain telling you I loved you a second longer than I absolutely had to,” he explained to her, his fingers stroking the line of her face, down to her mouth, lightly touching the pink, puckered lips that he had just finished kissing. “I’ll never be rid of you.”

“I love you,” Sammy whispered. No other words were appropriate right now.

“I love you more,” he said, and she recognized the look that passed over his face right then as a look reserved just for her.

They lay there for a long while, staring into each other as they caressed, lightly, trying to remember the lines and curves of one another before they absolutely had to tear their eyes away. Sammy let her fingers wander over his face, taking in the contour of Tom’s jawline, the red stubble that grew over the skin, leaving him with a rough patch against his cheek. His nose was long and symmetrical, his lips stretched into a content smile, perfect and pink, as always. There were very subtle laugh lines around his eyes and his lips and they were so deliciously sexy that it took all of Sammy’s restraint not to roll over on top of Tom to initiate their love making just one last time. She didn’t want to do that. Their last time had been too perfect to sully.

Tom’s eyes were raking over every single speck of her, staring into her deep brown eyes, touching the slope of her slightly turned up button nose, her full lips open and ready for anything else he had for her. He gently pushed the silky blonde strands of hair behind her ears and let his fingers drape down her neck, lingering and sending shivers all the way up her spine. She wanted to cry out at the contact but managed to stifle her moans of deep pleasure.

It wasn’t too much longer before it was time for them to face the inevitable. Sammy and Tom were both so unwilling to move that it took Tom’s phone ringing for them to move even a fraction of an inch. He gave Sammy a quick kiss on the nose and then rolled onto his back, reaching across to the nightstand to grab his shrill, ringing phone. He peered down at the phone and then slid his thumb across the screen to answer it.

“Yeah?” he said, sounding a bit perturbed. He leaned his back against the pillows, running his free hand through his hair in irritation. “Yes, yes, I’ll be down at the proper time.” He turned his head and smiled at Sammy apologetically, blinking a couple of times as he answered, “No, I do have something more important going on right now.”

Sammy’s heart swelled when he said this, and she scooted closer to him on the bed, lying curled up against him. She draped one arm across his chest and he brought his hand down from his hair and to her arm, holding onto her tightly. “Well if you can do that for me it’d be really terrific, I really don’t need to be there for it.” His hand moved up her arm and onto her back, where he lightly stroked her skin, sending chills up her spine. “I have a few things with me here but it’s really not much. Pretty much just the clothes on my back,” he said this with a little wiggle of his eyebrows at Sammy, because clearly, he had no actual clothes on his back. “I’ll meet you down there in a few. Alright. Cheers,” and he hung up, setting his phone back on the nightstand and immediately rolling back over and pulling her into his arms.

Sammy set her head against him and closed her eyes. The end was imminent. This would be the last time she could set her face against Tom’s chest, bury herself in his warmth. She took deep, inhaling breaths and tried to keep his scent in her memory. 

That was one thing she just couldn’t let go of, she had to remember it. Everything about him seemed to be fading already and that was just completely unacceptable.

“I can hear your heart beating,” she whispered softly to him.

“It beats only for you, my love.”

She sat up and stared into his eyes deeply, wanting to remember the exact hue of the blue and green specks that sparkled there. She grinned then, saying, “That was incredibly romantic… and incredibly cheesy.”

He grinned back at her. “I felt like it might have been too much the moment I said it.”

Sammy couldn’t stop the giggles that bubbled up in her chest. Tom joined her in laughter and they lay together for a few minutes, unable to catch their breath. Sammy was sure that it wasn’t just maniacal jubilance and happiness they were gasping for. She knew, at least for her, that part of her laughter came from the incredible nervous energy that was surrounding her at the thought of finally having to do this part. She had dreaded it all week, tried to push it to the back of her mind, deny that it was coming, but maybe doing that was the better way to go. Then it wouldn’t hurt this bad.

Who was she kidding? It would always hurt this bad.

“I love you,” he said after he finished laughing so hard. “I love you so very, very much.”

Sammy didn’t answer right away. She let the breeze in the hotel room sweep over her just one more time as she closed her eyes, letting the past seven days play out against the back of her eyes, seeing all of it once again. She saw the broken woman in pink in need of saving, the British gentleman who was more than happy to step in and sweep her off of her feet, the two people who would never know what hit them, the soul mates that would eventually have to say goodbye… She heard the strings of the acoustic guitar playing in her ears as they swayed together on a crowded street. She felt the spray of the ocean on her face when she realized she would never be able to remove this man from her heart. Everything about what they shared together was so beautiful, so special, what else could she say?

“I – ” but before any words escaped her lips, Sammy sobbed and the flood of tears began. She knew this was it. The moment she had been dreading all day, almost nearly as much as actually saying goodbye to Tom. She didn’t want to cry. She wanted to hold onto the tears until after Tom walked out of her life, so that she could privately mourn the fracturing of this love. Luckily, she didn’t have to make the trip back to North County until the next day, but she wasn’t exactly sure she could stay in the hotel room they had shared for nearly a week together, knowing he wasn’t coming back to share it with her.

Sammy tried to breathe through her tears, but she couldn’t. She sharply sobbed, her eyes swimming as she thought of spending the next however many years of her life all by herself. Without Tom, she felt as though her life were being cheated. She couldn’t stop the tears, no matter how badly she wanted to. She felt her eyes grow red and swollen, and she turned away from him so that he couldn’t watch her make a fool out of herself. She leaned forward, bringing her knees up to her face and burying her face so that she could sob, somewhat secluded.

Her back was shaking so hard that she barely noticed when the bed moved and Tom readjusted himself to be right next to her. He placed one hand on her back, one gripping her folded arm. “Samantha,” he whispered, and it was Sammy’s complete undoing. She felt every muscle in her body turn to jelly the moment his voice broke, saying her name. His hand pulled her toward him forcefully and she allowed him to. She didn’t even bother looking up at his face as he completely enveloped her, tucking her head against his chest protectively and folding his arms around her. He squeezed her so tight that for a moment she lost all the breath in her body. She squeezed him back, praying that he wouldn’t disintegrate in front of her. 

She shook continuously and it was virtually unstoppable. Sammy worried for a brief moment that she would make Tom miss his flight because she knew that Tom wouldn’t be able to abandon her when she was crying this hard. As tempting as it was to keep him, she knew she couldn’t be selfish. He had a career and a life to get back to. Their time was over.

A fresh wave of tears and sobs wracked her body one more time and she clung to Tom for dear life, knowing that when he was ripped from her arms that she would never be the same woman again.

Tom Hiddleston was a life-changing event for Sammy Chance. He was a wonderful, warm man with an intensely beautiful, vibrant soul, one of the most special souls Sammy had ever met in her lifetime, and perhaps ever would. Her heart was still mending from the shattered, stepped on pieces that Zach had left in his wake, and even though they had only known each other a short time, Tom had done his best to put those pieces back together. It was a slow process, but Tom’s love, caring, and understanding had done quite a job of getting her back to feeling as though she were a real person again. Now her heart was about to break all over again, scratching out the healing wound that was once there and creating a whole new raw, exposed pain on top of it.

It was excruciating.

But Sammy knew that she had to be an adult. If she took away nothing else from everything she’d been through recently, it was how to act like a grown-up. Eventually, Tom had to go, and she couldn’t hold onto him forever. Essentially, he was never hers.

She lifted her head up off of his chest and leaned back, still in his arms, to tell him that maybe it was time for them to get up off of the bed before they did end up spending the rest of the night here. What she saw as she gazed up at Tom would forever be burned into her memory.

Tom’s face was dripping wet with tears, still falling fresh from his eyes. The stains on his cheeks broke her heart all over again and her mouth dropped open as she choked, trying to say something to eliminate his pain. This hurt, this absolute devastation crossing his features, was just about to break her.

“Tom,” she whispered, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, as though he were trying to staunch the heavy flow of tears.  
“Please…”

“No,” he whispered, finally opening his eyes. They were bright red as the moisture continued pouring down his face. He shook his head, trying to stave her off. “No, I can’t… Samantha, I just can’t…”

“You can’t what?”

Tom took a deep breath and instead of answering, pulled her in again and held her as they both openly wept together, their tears and sadness mingling together. Sammy knew she was not alone in her grief, but this realization offered her no comfort.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity wrapped up together in a wet, tearstained embrace, they pulled themselves apart and laughed at how stupid they were being. Sammy wiped her eyes, her cheeks, her chin, and Tom did the same. Once they were somewhat cleaned up, he smiled at her sadly and whispered, “Come here,” bringing her lips up to meet his. The kiss was bittersweet. It tasted of his tears and caused Sammy’s closed eyes to flood all over again. They pulled apart and stared into one another again, waiting for the inevitable second they would finally have to untangle themselves and step back.

That second, unfortunately, was now.

Sammy felt the cold, unwelcoming breeze starting to flow between them as they slowly parted. They moved slowly, not wanting anything to end but knowing that they had to get going. Sammy had agreed to walk Tom down to his waiting car in the parking garage connected to the hotel. It was much less conspicuous for him to do it this way, and this also afforded them a much more private goodbye than doing it out in the open. Sammy still wasn’t one hundred per cent sure that she would actually be able to put him in the car and watch him drive off out of her life. She had expressed this to him and he had begged her to find the courage to do it, because even though it was going to kill him to watch her fade out of sight, he couldn’t imagine not seeing her face up until the very bitter end.

So as Tom got himself around, getting dressed and making himself presentable after their shared emotional outburst, Sammy sat in a stupor, forgetting that she also had to dress before they could descend together. It wasn’t until Tom came in and leaned down next to her on the bed, kissing her cheek sweetly and asking if she was all right that she finally broke from this comatose state and got up, putting her clothes together woodenly until she was decent enough for this short, heartbreaking trip.

Sammy leaned up against the wall of the hotel room and stared at it, laid out in front of her. There were so many memories attached to this small, generic room. It didn’t matter how much it looked like every other room in this place. This was where some of their most intimate, beautiful moments had taken place. Acts performed, words spoken, thoughts shared… things she would never, ever forget until the day she died.

She was completely numb as she watched Tom flit around the room and adjoining bathroom, making sure he had everything gathered that he needed. It wouldn’t have been too big a tragedy in Sammy’s mind for him to forget something. Anything he could leave with her would be a reminder that what they had shared was real, tangible, something that she could always hold onto.

Unfortunately, he was not going to leave her with a single souvenir that would serve as concrete evidence of their love.

It took some time but finally, Tom was satisfied that he was not forgetting a single thing and he walked slowly, purposefully, over to where Sammy stood and stared down at her, the most heartbreaking expression crossing his exquisite features. “This is it.”

Sammy didn’t know how to feel about this statement, so many different thoughts were knocking around her brain, a full, jumbled assortment of feelings pumping through her veins. Just for one, brief minute, she wanted all of it stop. She desperately needed for all of it to just slow down, if only for a second. They didn’t have the time for her to dissect what she was feeling, however, so she knew she was going to have to do that alone later.

It was going to be a very, very hard night.

Tom reached down and took her hand in his, giving her fingers a confident, reassuring squeeze, and whispering, “Are you ready?”

Sammy had to smirk at this, because he knew what the answer was. She said it anyway. “Not even a little.”

“I know,” he said, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.

One of the many things Sammy had noticed about life was that it tended to work against you. The things you wanted to slow down the absolute most were the exact moments that seemed to go by the fastest. This parting was absolutely no exception. From the second they stepped out of the hotel room and walked to the elevator, time seemed to be moving faster and faster. Sammy didn’t think her heart could take it anymore. They didn’t even get those last few precious minutes of a private elevator ride to the parking garage. It slipped by quickly, other hotel guests milling about in the small space with them. Sammy felt that her last few seconds with Tom had been hijacked by life. This fact, while uncontrollable, was incredibly exacerbating.

The last of the passengers got off at the lobby, leaving Tom and Sammy alone for the two more floors they had to descend before they would be in the parking garage where the town car would take Tom away for an undetermined amount of time. Weeks, months, years… Sammy had no way to tell.

Sammy closed her eyes, her hand still clasped with Tom’s. She had wound her arm around his, her other hand gripping him tightly. For the last couple of floors, she had rested her head against his shoulder. She had felt him sigh when she did this, as though it was the final bastion of hope in this dark moment of their history.

Sammy heard the door open and she opened her eyes to face the dankness of the long, endless garage. She had never really cared for enclosed parking garages to begin with. This just gave her another reason to loathe them.

They looked at each other, so many heavy emotions pouring from their eyes that Sammy felt choked up. She couldn’t make her legs move, but with a little bit of a squeeze from Tom’s hand, Sammy knew that this was the moment she was so dreading. They gingerly took a step together, exiting the elevator and entering the concrete encased parking lot, their hearts beating in unison.

Before she even had a moment to breathe, Tom peered up over her head and saw something that made his face fall. Sammy couldn’t bear it. She knew it was the car pulling up behind them. She didn’t even want to stop and turn around. She wanted it to just leave, to disappear as though it were never there, but that wasn’t going to happen. So Sammy chose to stand, staring at Tom. She had the crazy urge to simply let go of him and run back to the elevator and jump in without looking back. She couldn’t do that to Tom, though.

Then again, she wasn’t sure that she could do any more damage to her heart right now.

“The car is here,” he told her simply, shattering her heart into a thousand tiny pieces.

She clamped her eyes shut then, not daring to look up into Tom’s heartbroken face. She couldn’t do it. She was so anxious to just turn around and run away, escaping everything. Every single fight-or-flight response in her body was telling her to turn and run as fast as she could. Tom wasn’t speaking, so she took her opportunity to finally spit out what she was really thinking.

“Tom, I can’t do this. I can’t say goodbye,” she sputtered, opening her eyes. She was so wrapped up in her emotion that she had forgotten to notice the tears coursing down her cheeks. She honestly thought there were none left to cry at this point.

“I know.”

“I don’t really think you do,” she said, biting her lip, her heart hammering in her chest so fast that it felt as though at any moment it might actually burst. “I have to get back on the elevator. I can’t watch you just drive out of my life like this time never happened.”

“Samantha, you can’t be serious…” he whispered to her, his eyes wide and imploring. “You can’t just walk away. I have… I have so much…” His voice cracked and it was Sammy’s final undoing.

“No, Tom, I have to go.”

“Don’t leave me yet,” he breathed to her, his tone now desperate. “Please, please don’t go.” He grabbed her forcefully, wrapping her up in his arms and holding her there as tight as he could. “I can’t lose you yet.”

“No, Tom, let me go,” she said, her voice breaking as she tried to fight him off. This wasn’t going to be the last time they held each other. She wanted to remember their time together upstairs in that bed, the love pouring so heavily down their cheeks that there was absolutely no way of denying that this was heart wrenching. That should be their last time holding each other. Not this. This was unfair and so, so wrong.

“Samantha, please, please,” Tom’s composure broke as well and the tears started flowing. Sammy had no intention of standing here and letting them repeat their breakdown of before. Not only was this such a bad setting, but there had to be people in the town car behind them that could see them.

Tom stood up to his full height, trying to discreetly wipe the tears away. It was almost as though he had just realized that there were onlookers on this private moment. Sammy was resigned. She wasn’t going to make her grand escape. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Tom in such a state. 

“I’ll stay, I’ll stay,” she assured him, gulping past the lump in her throat and allowing more tears to fall as she answered him. It nearly broke her to do so.

He didn’t say anything to this. Instead, he reached his hands up and held her face, stroking the soft skin, pushing back her hair, letting his fingers trail over all of her feature as though he wanted to remember the feel of her. He wiped the tears away as they continued to trickle down her already stained cheeks. He was searching, seeking something in her that he didn’t know how to voice just yet.

Sammy’s hands found his forearms and she gripped him, hard, just to make sure that she could hold him for whatever small amount of time they had left. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his, no matter how hard she tried. There was so, so much pain. She wished so badly that she could erase it, but that was not their fate. That was not meant to happen.

The tense silence stretched for a long time, and Sammy’s hands moved as she stepped closer to Tom and placed her hands against his chest. She grabbed hold of his dark leather jacket, her fists clenched so hard that her knuckles were turning white. Nothing, not a thing in this world, could interrupt the ferocity of their desire.

“I promise…” he choked out, finally breaking the silence, “I promise I’ll come back for you. I’ll find you. The moment I find the opportunity to get you back, I’ll do it. I can’t face the rest of my life without you, Samantha Chance.”

“Tom,” she said, unable to say anything else. She let the tears fall.

“Don’t you dare go believing that I’m not trying my hardest to come back to you,” he pleaded with her, his hands now holding her face, his fingers firm and gripping as though he were trying to get her to understand through mere touch how much he meant what he was saying. “You… you changed me, Samantha.” Sammy sobbed, punctuating the conversation with her own small contribution. She still couldn’t speak. “You’ve made me better, more loving, more open to new experiences… you made me a new person. Completely, implicitly, and with no regret. And for that and so, so much more, I love you.”

Sammy’s eyes flooded yet again and spilled over as she opened her mouth, her lips trembling as she finally was able to croak out, “Oh, Tom… You are so much more than just a passing love for me… You resurrected me and made me feel again, when I thought it was impossible. And for that, I will always, always love you. To the depths of my soul.”

“My miracle,” he whispered, pushing the hair out of her face, his hands slowing.

“My angel,” she whispered back, her hands now moving onto his chest where she could feel his warmth, his heart beating quickly against her fingers.

They stepped closer, Tom leaned in and Sammy stood on her tip toes, and their lips connected in this one last sweet, sweeping kiss. Everything that Sammy desperately needed was fading from her grasp. She wished she could forget everything and come with him, but it wasn’t going to happen. He couldn’t make concessions for her and just bring her along.

Their kiss extended and she laced her arms around his neck to get a better grip on him. His hands moved from her face to her waist, where he grabbed her tightly and lifted her up off of the ground. This would be the last time in the discernible future that they would be connected, and unfortunately, this kiss could not last forever.

He set her down, slowly, and finally disconnected their kiss. Everything around Sammy faded into black and white while Tom’s face remained in full, vivid color. She braced herself for the words he would speak next, and even though she was fully prepared for them, she didn’t want him to say them anyway. It was going to shatter her world and her perception that this was going to be the rest of their life. This wasn’t the rest of their life. This was now, this was here, and this was it. This was the end.

And finally, after what felt like an absolute eternity, Tom’s face became blurry as he whispered, “Goodbye.”


	21. Present Day

Present Day

I open my eyes the next morning to a brand new day. I hadn’t realized until the night before that my perception of the world around me had been deadened the moment Tom had spoken his last words to me in that parking garage five years ago. Now, he is here, and I am seeing everything with renewed vision. Colors are brighter, sounds are clearer, and everything else in the entire world that I had been taking for granted are so much more cherished and beautiful.

Everything had happened so quickly the night before. Tom and I had made love not once, not twice, but at least three times before stirring came from Emma’s room, indicating she was awake from her nap. We separated ourselves and decided it would be best, for Emma, to not be affectionate around her. For the four short years of her life she had never seen Mommy with any man, so it was probably going to be confusing for her to see this new man, who had only been around for four days, hanging all over Mommy.

But man, it was hard. Every single eye flick or accidental graze throughout the night nearly caused a full commotion. Tom was excusing himself to the bathroom every so often, presumably to talk himself down. For me, it was a nightmare trying to sit comfortably in one spot whenever Tom made a certain face, laughed, or even spoke, for that matter. Emma didn’t seem to notice the tension and absolutely loved the fact that her prince had come back to spend some time with her. I went so far as to ask her if it was okay if her prince spent the night with us, to which I received an enthusiastic chorus of affirmative reactions.

And so, I am here in my bed the next morning, sore as shit from the insane amount of sexual activity that my poor, deprived body just is not ready for. It will be a miracle if I can do anything today. As my body starts to come to life my brain quickly follows suit and I wake up in a cold sweat.

In all the excitement of the past few days, I have let my schedule go. I completely forgot that the weekend is over and my daughter has school today. I roll over quickly to grab my phone and check the time, and then breathe a massive sigh of relief when I realize that I still have a couple of hours to spare.

I peer over at Tom lying next to me in bed. He is out cold. Even my stirring for the phone did not rouse him. He must be just as physically exhausted as I am. I smirk a little to myself, thankful that I am not the only one feeling this way. Unfortunately, I have become accustomed to the trials of parenthood, where I wake up far before I’m ready. I lean over to give Tom a kiss on the forehead and then quietly slip out of bed, throw some sweatpants and an old t-shirt on, and pad out to the kitchen to start us some coffee.

Emma has already woken up at this point, but is quietly watching a movie in her room. She understands our routine. On the rare occasion that Mommy doesn’t wake up before her she knows not to wander around the house, getting into stuff. I always make sure to keep a full sip cup of chocolate milk in the fridge for this purpose. She can handle getting that for herself and she knows how to start her movie up. I poke my head into her bedroom and grin widely, seeing my disheveled four-year-old on the bed, staring at the TV screen in a daze.

“Morning, baby,” I whisper.

“Morning, Mommy,” she says back, stirring a bit. She wipes her eyes and starts to get off of the bed. “I’m hungry.”

“I know,” I say, because this is essentially part of the routine. I pick her up and kiss her on the cheek, holding her close. She sets her head on my shoulder sleepily and lets me carry her into the dining room, where I set her down in her chair and set about getting her something to eat. I have made the mistake too many times of asking her what she wants only to have her change her mind five or six times while I’m in the middle of fixing her something. Now, we have a mostly set breakfast. Today, I decide to give her a fruit bowl because we haven’t been eating the greatest the last few days. I am fortunate enough to have a child that enjoys healthy food on occasion.

I give her the bowl and a small fork, but she chooses to pick it with her fingers. “Baby, use the fork please. It’s impolite to eat with your hands,” I chide gently, and she sighs at me and picks up her utensil anyway. I turn around to get the coffee going, deciding how I want this day to go. I usually get Emma up, fed, and dressed with a little bit of time to spare before we head to school. Afterward, I come home, get some writing or cleaning done, and then go back to pick her up. After that, we have a pretty relaxing day at the house. I write or spend time with her, whatever we’re feeling like doing. Adding someone new to the mix is a little disconcerting, but I’m confident I can figure something out.

I am mostly worried about having Tom wake up here with Emma still home. I am not sure what kind of impression I am giving my daughter about strangers staying over. I certainly don’t want her growing up thinking that Mommy does this kind of thing all the time. Tom and I have been so busy reconnecting that we haven’t had a chance to talk about anything that directly involves our relationship or anything extending past the short amount of time that he’s actually going to be in town. I do not have a single clue as to how to broach the subject with him. It’s probably better if I stay quiet for now.

The coffee beeps and I turn around to pour myself a cup before I grab a piece of fruit for myself. As I am throwing in some cream and sugar, I hear Emma say behind me in her tiny voice, “Good morning!” I glance over my shoulder and see Tom making his way into the kitchen sleepily, yawning and running a hand through his incredibly messy strawberry curls. I blush a little bit as I think about the reasons for his disheveled appearance.

“Morning, darling,” he says through another yawn. My heart warms as I watch him shuffle over to her and then smile happily as he says, “May I have a good morning hug?” Emma nods emphatically, setting down her fork and reaching her little arms over to him. I can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed when they embrace, Tom closing his eyes and giving her a sweet, loving peck on the cheek. “What a fantastic hug!” he declares. Emma beams proudly, turning back to pick at her food.

“Fork!” I say firmly, and she does as she’s told. Tom gives me a funny look as he stands up, walking over to me.

“Good morning, my love,” he whispers, and because Emma’s back is turned, I allow him a quick but incredibly sweet kiss and a warm embrace. He holds me for so long that I forget myself momentarily, feeling like the woman I was five years ago when we used to sit and hold each other for long periods of time.

“Good morning yourself,” I say as he steps away. “I made coffee if you want some.”

“That would be lovely,” he says, and turns and helps himself to the cabinets, grabbing a mug and utensils as though he has lived here with me the past five years. My heart hurts a little as I watch him, wondering what it would have been like to live with him, raise our daughter from infancy together. He seems so at home in a domestic setting and I wish that I could give it to him.

He has his mug, a spoon, and his own bowl of fruit and he turns to me, pausing as I’m staring at him. He stops what he’s doing, his eyebrows raised and a smirk starting at the corner of his lips. “What?”

I shake my head, smiling back at him. “It’s nothing. Just watching you.”

Tom narrows his eyes at me, as though he doesn’t believe that I’m not laughing at him. It’s hard to suppress the smile that is slowly spreading across my lips. I don’t know what it is, I am just enjoying being here with the two people I love more than anything in the entire world and I really can’t believe after all of this time we’re here in this incredibly familial setting. Together.

“It’s really nothing, I promise,” I assure him once again, and without thinking about it, I walk over to him and stand on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Mommy, I’m done eating,” I hear down around my knees. I look down and see Emma standing there patiently, holding her empty bowl for me.

My heart beats a little harder when I realize I must have been kissing Tom just as she was walking over. She saw everything but luckily is not commenting on it. I do see her big brown eyes shining with curiosity. I can see the gears moving in her head as she tries to formulate a question to ask. Fortunately for me she doesn’t possess the language skills yet to articulate said inquiry.

“Where’s your fork, baby?” I ask her, because I do not know how to handle this situation. I am out of my depth here.

“Oh!” she says, and instead of handing the bowl to me she scurries back over to the table, reaches up to grab her fork, and then comes back over to give me her dirty dishes.

“Thank you,” I say, taking her things and putting them in the sink quickly. “Can you go get dressed for school, please?”

“Okay,” she says, and runs out of the room briskly and shuts her door behind her.

“She’s so precious,” Tom comments, moving around me to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, I think so, too,” I say with a grin and I join him at the table after I quickly wash up her dishes and set them in the rack to dry.

“What time does she need to be at school?” he asks me, adding cream and sugar to his cup and joining me at the table.

“Her class starts at nine-thirty, but we usually leave the house around nine,” I explain to him. I’m not sure how we’re going to handle all of this. We definitely need to have a discussion about this thing soon. We’re not unattached and wild in a hotel room in California anymore. I have a child that depends on me for stability and support. Not to mention I have writing to tend to, something I can’t put off, so doing this for much longer is not going to work.

I want Tom in Emma’s life. I want Tom in my life. I need to know what Tom wants.

“D’you mind if… if I come with you?” he asks me, his gaze not quite reaching mine. He seems uncertain and I can’t help but feel as though he has once again read my mind. He wants to be a part of this just as much as I want him.

“Of course you can,” I say, and I bite my tongue before I finish my thought, ‘she’s your daughter, too.’ We need our understanding before I can vocalize his paternity so willingly. “It’s not much fun, though. We’re just walking her to class and then leaving. It’s hardly an adventure.”

He frowns at me as he chews his food, smirking a bit. “First of all, shut up.” I grin at this and sip my coffee, waiting for him to continue. “Second of all, what do you expect to do with me if I don’t come with you?”

I purse my lips as I consider the answer to this question. “Oh there are so many places I can put you.”

“You’re lucky Emma is in the next room,” he says, pointing a finger at me. “Because I would grab you up right now for being such a…” he looks behind him, I assume to ensure that Emma is not within earshot, and turns back to me, whispering, “shit.”

“A shit?” I repeat back quietly. “I might hurt you.”

“You wish.”

“Mommy! I can’t find my clothes!”

I take a deep breath, slightly annoyed that my special little moment with Tom has been interrupted, but life trolls on. I pause what I am about to say and shout back to my daughter, “You know where your clothes are. Put them on now, please.” I am firm but not angry. She is not testing me quite yet.

“So I can come?” Tom reiterates. The look on his face is too precious for me to deny. I honestly wasn’t planning on denying him anyway, but I am concerned that he will draw attention. That is not what I want for my daughter.

“Duh!” I say, sticking my tongue out at him. He gives me the teasing glare and quickly reaches out and tickles me. I jump a mile at the contact and narrow my eyes. “You are treading on very thin ice, Hiddleston.”

“Is that so? And what exactly are you going to do about it?” he says, his tone mocking.

I set my coffee mug down and stand up, walking over to him and winding my arms around his neck. I bend over seductively, just enough so that he barely feels the gentle brush of my breasts against his bare arm. I press my lips close to his ear and breathe in as husky a voice as I can manage, “Wouldn’t you just love to know?”

He takes a deep, shaky breath, and stares up at me then. “You… You are pure evil.”

“I know,” I say, and grin at him playfully as I plant a big, wet kiss on his cheek, ruffle his curls, and walk past him to Emma’s bedroom. She is getting dressed, slowly but surely, and I figure there’s probably a little time left for a nice, hot shower before we get going. I am determined to put off this conversation with Tom as long as I possibly can.

Once Emma is dressed and back on her bed, watching her movie, I wander back to the kitchen and lean up against the wall, facing Tom. He has finished off his fruit and is still working on his coffee. He notices me standing there and gives a little sideways smirk as he puts the mug to his lips and says into it, “What are you playing at?”

“Shower?” is all I ask before he stands up immediately, shoves in his chair, and follows me anxiously to my room.

We have a fun together in the shower and reminisce about the crazy things we did back in the hotel room that week. There were so many details that I had forgotten and it was nice to hear from Tom how he had remembered our time together. We spend a lot of time hugging and kissing and just holding each other under the flow of water. I feel Tom stroke my hair, kiss my wet shoulders, dig his fingertips into the skin of my back just a bit, like he is making sure I’m here. I can’t help but sigh as I feel his insistence. I have waited so long for him to come back, I’m not letting go if I have to.

But I know, deep down that I may have to.

We finish in the shower and get dressed and ready unhurriedly, watching each other as we do so. I remember so many little things about him as I watch him do different things. Even as he runs his hands through his hair after he puts his shirt back on to make sure that it’s in the right places looks newly familiar to me. I am so enjoying this period of observation, just marveling at the fact that after five years, I have my soul mate back, even if it’s only for a moment.

I shake my head and continue getting dressed. We don’t have much time now since Tom and I took our time in the shower. I grab everything I need for me from the bedroom and dash out to the living room, getting it all in order. I’ve already made up Emma’s lunch and so I grab her Disney princess backpack and shove it in unceremoniously. I know all of her homework and everything is in there, we did all of that a few nights ago. Tom comes out into the living room and waits with me, asking if there is anything he can do, but for the most part, we have this routine down. Emma comes out of her room, puts her coat on, and we are out the door. The three of us, my odd little family.

I hope, as we pull into the school and park, that there is no commotion when Tom comes with me to drop Emma off at her classroom. After all, a lot of these teachers and parents are young females that probably know or at least have a vague idea of who Tom is. Five years ago his fame was really starting to pick up steam but since then, he has been in several Marvel sequels and a multitude of other, very popular films. I feel a slight tremor start in my hands as I realize just how devastating it could be to Emma if someone were to connect the dots, seeing the three of us together.

Emma is excitedly talking to Tom, who is emphatically replying to every word she says. She is telling him about her class, her teachers, the other kids in the class with her, and the kinds of stuff they get to do. Tom seems to be genuinely interested and asks questions on occasion when Emma runs out of steam. This, however, does not happen too often.

I turn to get Emma out when out of nowhere, Tom opens up the back door of the car and leans in slightly, extending his hands to her. I am so taken aback that I am struck speechless for a moment. I am so, so used to doing this all by myself and all of a suddenly someone else is here, going through the motions and doing my job for me. A dark ball of confusing thoughts and feelings starts deep in my chest. I have no discernible way to articulate what I am going through because this is a situation I never imagined encountering.

Before I can give it too much thought, Emma is reaching for my hand and trying to drag me in the direction of her class. I come back to myself, apologize to her, and lock the car as I take her hand and turn around to walk with her. She is holding Tom’s hand as well, and I find myself glancing at the three of us, connected like this and feeling nothing but overwhelming, unexplainable joy. This is what I’ve always envisioned, what I’ve always wanted for my daughter, and myself, if I’m being honest. Tom has been missing from our lives too long.

I still don’t know how I feel about it, though.

We get to her classroom shortly after and Tom catches my gaze for a quick moment. My heart skips a beat when he gives me that look, the one I know is meant just for me, and then continues answering Emma. We arrive when there are a lot of other parents there, and I hold my breath as people start walking past us. Mostly, they smile at Emma as she excitedly greets them, but I notice the occasional few that let their eyes wander from mine to the tall, handsome gentleman on my left. Not too many people seem to know who he is in quick passing, although some are aware he looks familiar.

I chance a glance over at Tom and he doesn’t seem to be noticing their recognition at all. He is too busy taking in everything around him, staring at the walls of the school as though he’s never seen anything quite like it. He smiles as more kids run around, yelling and laughing and having fun. I can tell that he is enchanted by what is going on around him and has no problem being a part of it.

We approach Emma’s teacher, Miss Lilly, and I watch as her gaze flicks over to Tom, takes him in, not registering anything. She looks down at Emma instead and greets her in a high pitched, friendly voice. “Hello, Emma! How are you today?”

“I’m great!” she says back, hopping a little bit between us. She is clinging onto both of us still, but Tom only gives a little giggle as he watches her, a sound that is music to my ears. I love it when everything is good and happy.

“Who is your new friend?” Miss Lilly asks, indicating Tom but keeping her attention on Emma.

I am actually kind of interested to hear what she has to say. After all, Tom has been around quite a bit in the past few days and she has to know on some level that he spent the night with her mommy last night. Whatever she is about to say is going to be priceless and I know I won’t be too embarrassed. After all, Tom is insanely attractive and if anything, I don’t mind bragging a little.

Instead, my entire world flips on its side when, unwittingly, my four-year-old puts me on the spot so glaringly that I know I am going to vomit. Emma turns her precious curly head up toward Tom and then back at Miss Lilly before she answers, “This is my daddy.”

All the air leaves my body when Emma says this. It takes me a moment to process my thoughts and I find myself wondering why the hell she would jump to this radical conclusion without even bothering to ask me if it was true. And then I remember that she hasn’t been around other men with any frequency. Why wouldn’t she believe that the first man to ever come into her home and try to be an active part of her life is her long absent father?

I don’t have the opportunity to make a statement because Emma lets go of my hand right then and turns to Tom. She peers up at him, beaming widely as she squeaks out, “Right?”

Our eyes meet at that exact moment and it seems as though mountains upon mountains of questions are tumbling all over each other before he is ready to open his mouth and answer Emma. I can see how badly he wants to say it, how much he wants to tell her who he is and claim her proudly, but he doesn’t know how I feel about it. As for me, the hardest part of this was going to be Emma’s reaction, and obviously she made the connection on her own and seems to be okay with it. Who am I to deny him this small thing he is asking of me?

I give him the slightest smile to let him know it’s okay, and in another treasured moment I witness these two share, I see Tom grin from ear to ear as he bends down to Emma’s level and whispers, “You bet I am, darling.”

Emma giggles at him and before I forget how to use my vocal chords, I manage to grunt, “Hugs and kisses, Em.”

“Okay,” she says, and she reaches around Tom’s neck and gives him a great big squeeze, a kiss on the cheek, and then turns to me for the same. I reciprocate, bending over to reach her, and she turns to run into the classroom, forgetting everything that happened out here as she involves herself in other things.

Tom and I stand back up, say goodbye to Emma’s teacher quickly, and turn back around to head out quickly. We both know that this has to be discussed and we are not willing to do it in public. Tom grabs my hand tightly, hanging on for dear life as he walks briskly, me having to jog to keep up with his pace. We hit the door and run to the car, our hands still clasped as we keep this small connection and cling to each other.

The moment we reach the car we stop and catch our breath. We turn to each other, staring hard because something really special has just happened. It takes me a second to realize that my eyes are overflowing with tears and I am grinning at Tom like an idiot. He is doing the same.

“She knows,” I say finally, choking past the tears. “She knows who you are.”

“I… um…” Tom says, and he has to stop speaking because his lip is quivering and he his voice is shaking so much that he doesn’t sound normal. He composes himself a moment, running his hands through his hair and turning back to me. “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

“And how do you feel?” I ask him.

He sighs, a happy smile spreading across his face that absolutely lights up his entire face. He is radiating joy and exuberance from every single pore and I can’t help but be caught up in the glow. “It feels absolutely, insanely… incredible.”

“Tom,” I whisper to him, smiling through my tears. He doesn’t waste a single second in scooping me into his arms and bringing me in as close as he can for a warm, tight embrace. It is so achingly familiar being here in his arms and I absolutely love it. His arms know the place to hold me and my head knows exactly how to fit into him.

“Thank you, Samantha,” he says after a beat of silence.

“For what?” I say, muffled against his chest. I do not want to lift my head for a single moment.

“For everything,” he says, and I lift my head up to look at him. His eyes explore mine and he pushes the hair from my face gently. “For loving me and making me the man that I am today. For never having a second of doubt when it came to taking a chance on me. And thank you, so much, for making me a father. It’s always something that I’ve wanted, and I could not have chosen a more perfect person as the mother of my child.”

I am flattered by this comment, because he seemed so angry with me when he first found out, but I know the real reason now that he was so upset. He was denied the time to be a family man with us, so I opt not to question it and decide instead to accept his heartfelt thanks. My eyes are still misty with tears as I reach up and touch Tom’s face, my fingers hesitant until I see him close his eyes at the contact, as though my touch is his salvation.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I tell him, and he holds me once again. I don’t care who can or can’t see us right now or who may recognize Tom. Right now, all that matters is us.

 

It is a surprisingly short amount of time after this incident at Emma’s school before she actually feels comfortable enough to address him as ‘Daddy.’ Tom and I are in the middle of making dinner for Emma when it happens. She wanders into the kitchen, presumably in search of food, but instead of coming to me first, she approaches Tom.

“What is it, darling?” he asks, give her as much attention as he can while stirring up the batter for the honey biscuits I am planning to make with dinner.

“Can I have more chocolate milk, Daddy?”

At first, I think that Tom is going to drop my glass mixing bowl when he hears this, because I have practically done the same with my glass casserole dish. No one moves for a solid minute, and Emma is impatiently waiting for an answer to her question. She has no idea that what she’s said has caused the world to stop turning for two confused adults.

Finally, I look over at Tom, who is still standing there with an unreadable expression on his face as he stares at his daughter. His eyes shift over and find mine, his eyebrows raised as though he is asking me, ‘What the hell do I do?’ I give him an encouraging smile and nod toward Emma, indicating that he should probably answer her. He falters for a second, opening his mouth as his gaze shifts back to Emma, but finally he finds his voice. “Absolutely you can have more chocolate milk,” and he turns to set the bowl down, reaching down to grab her cup and getting into the fridge for her refill. He seems slightly unsure of himself, like he thinks he’s going to do something wrong. I want to open my mouth and tell him that everything is okay, that he’s bound to make mistakes and that he has very little chance of disappointing a four-year-old, but I don’t. If he wants to do this for real, he needs to figure it out for himself, like I had to.

From this point on, the night flows so smoothly and happily I forget that there’s a very important, somewhat unpleasant conversation looming over my head. I really need to know what we’re going to do. I know Tom loves Emma and wants to be here with her, but I’m not sure what he intends on doing. At the end of the day, he is still Tom Hiddleston, and has a very important career to think about. I don’t know what he wants to do and I need to figure it out soon.

I wonder briefly, with a nervous flutter in my stomach, if Tom would consider staying for me.

After dinner, Tom and I clean the kitchen together and laugh and enjoy one another’s company. Another thing I completely forgot about was the fact that Tom and I have such an easy rapport with each other, regardless of what we are doing. The conversation has always come easily between the two of us, from the moment we first met and still, five years later. It makes me so happy to know that someone I love as deeply as Tom can also be my friend. I have never had that kind of relationship with anyone.

“I’m telling you, New Zealand is absolutely breathtaking,” he says, taking the plates he has just dried and putting them back in the cupboard. “Rolling green hills, crisp blue water, beautiful snowy mountains… It’s so natural and uninhabited. I wish every place in the world were like that.”

“I know what you mean,” I answer him, busy with the last few dishes I’m washing. “That’s why I don’t live in a big city like Detroit or Grand Rapids,” I explain to him. “I moved up here because liked the solitude and the untouched state of the woods. Plus it’s nice being so close to the lake.”

“Lake… Michigan, right?” he asks, narrowing his eyes as he does so.

“Very good!” I say, giving him a wink as I hand him another dish to dry off. “You’re learning your Michigan geography. I love it.”

“I kind of already did… a bit,” he says, a shy smile on his lips.

“When?” I ask, incredulous.

“Well, after that week we spent together, I couldn’t stop thinking about you…” he confesses to me, and I can’t help the feelings of love and admiration coursing through my blood. He sets the dishes down and comes over to me, looping his arm around my waist and pulling me close. I have to giggle at this because my hands are dripping wet with soapy dishwater and he doesn’t seem to care. “I missed you terribly. I did anything and everything to feel close to you. Except come back for you,” he says, and his face falls. I feel his sadness. “I regret that decision.”

Now is my moment. I know at some point I do have to start this conversation, even if I’m a bit scared. After all, Tom is trying to tread the frightening waters of newfound parenthood, and if he is brave enough to do that, I should be able to ask him a simple question.

“You’re here now,” I say to him, giving him a sad smile. I do wish he had come back sooner, but it is what it is. Standing here and contemplating ‘what if’ won’t change what happened. “And that is something I think we need to talk about.”

Tom takes a deep, steadying breath and nods. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

I turn back to the sink and see that there are only a few pieces of silverware left, so we can abandon it for now and get to this conversation. It needs to be done and I am tired of putting it off. “Would you like to go to the living room? I’ll bring in a couple of drinks for us.”

“Sure,” he says, leaning forward and giving me a soft kiss on the lips. I don’t want to let him go, because I have no idea what’s in store for us, but I do it all the same. I am used to sacrifice.

After I have a couple glasses of white wine poured, I gather up all of my strength and head into the living room. Whatever we decide I know it will be for the best, but I certainly hope it doesn’t mean I am going to have to lose Tom a second time.

I give Tom his wine and he thanks me, taking a sip. “This is delicious,” he says.

“It’s Eco-Vino,” I tell him, setting my own glass down on the table as I sit down next to him. “It’s an organic, eco-friendly brand.” I am staving off the inevitable, making small talk. Tom says nothing because I am sure he is just as nervous as me to get this going. After an incredibly tense, stretching silence, I decide that I have to just dive in headfirst or this is not going to go anywhere.

“So what happens now?” I ask. “Are we just doomed to repeat only having a week at a time with each other? Because to be honest…” I take a deep breath and then spit it all out at once, “To be honest if this is how it’s going to go for the rest of our lives then I know that I can’t do it. I can’t have you come in and out of my life for tiny, insignificant amounts of time when you mean more than the entire universe to me. I can’t keep hoping for a time when we can be together. I’m keeping myself open to this possibility and it just feels like I’m… I don’t know, like I’m stagnating… I want you to be in Emma’s life, I really, really do, but I have to figure out what we’re doing so I can decide whether or not you should be a part of my life.”

Tom nods as he takes everything in. I am afraid I have given him too much to contemplate when he peers up at me, giving me a shadow of a smile. “My only question to you is do you want me in your life?”

I blink, surprised at the question. “What?”

“Do you want me in your life? For good?”

“You mean, forever?” I am cautious. I can’t hold onto hope right now.

“Of course I mean forever,” he says, rolling his eyes at me.

“You know I do,” I whisper to him, looking down at my hands. “But I don’t see how any of it is possible…”

“What do you mean?” he asks, bending over to catch my attention. I look up at him and see his glossy blue-green eyes staring into me. How do I explain to this man that I love so deeply that I really see how we could ever, in reality, be together?

“There’s so much to this now,” I tell him. “It’s not just about you coming back to sweep me off my feet and take me away. There’s Emma to consider now, too. I don’t necessarily have a job that I have to stay put for, but I really don’t want to uproot Emma when she’s in the middle of school, and I know you own a home in London and that’s where you live, so how could I ask you to leave all of that behind and come here, to nowhere, Michigan?”

Tom responds by moving his arm from the back of the couch and placing his hand on top of mine. I sigh happily in spite of everything and glance up at him. He is leaning in even closer, his lips stretched into a thin, sweet smile and I feel myself melt. “I assure you, Samantha, we can make it work.”

“So… so this is what you want?” I ask him, wanting a concrete answer.

“What did I say to you the first time we were together?” he asks me softly. The tone of his voice beckons my eyes to meet his, and I do, searching for something within their depths that I have long forgotten. I don’t respond to him right away, so he puts his other hand on mine and squeezes them, bringing them up to his lips and giving them a sweet lingering kiss. He opens his eyes and whispers, “I told you I would fight to get back to you and that I would never forget to come back. I also recall telling you that once I found you, I would keep you by my side forever. No matter what it takes.”

I frown, reaching back into the furthest, deepest reaches of my mind and trying to fish out the time he told me that. “I don’t recall you ever saying that.”

“Well,” he says, moving down off of the couch to get down on his knees in front of me. “I’m saying it now.” He reaches into his pocket and before I can even let my slow, emotional brain understand what he is holding, he flips it open, turns it to face me, and whispers, “So will you stay by my side? Forever?”

Every single thought or word that I could speak right now has completely fled my body, betraying me while I sit here and flounder in silence. What do I say to Tom? What does my heart want? Four days ago, we were practically strangers, not having seen each other in five years, with a mountain of unspoken moments, memories, and feelings all piled on top of each other. Let’s not even forget about the fact that there was Emma to reveal. Five days ago Tom didn’t even know he had a daughter. Now he wants to immediately jump back into the deep end? He has no idea how to be a parent yet, and I certainly don’t know if he has what it takes to be a husband. We haven’t even technically ever been together long enough to establish a label for what we are.

I know that I do want to be with Tom forever. There is absolutely no doubt in my heart or soul that if I have the choice, I am going to be with Tom for the rest of my life. I really don’t think I can live another day without him. I’m really not sure jumping to that next stop is really what we should be worrying about right now. Just having him back, knowing that there’s a child he has to learn to take care of should be enough stress. We don’t need to add the stress of planning a wedding on top of it.

Surely he understands?

I stare into his eyes and see the fear that swims in those beautiful ocean blues and for the first time I realize that Tom pulled this ring out of his pocket. This means not only did he have it before he got here four days ago, but he must have been carrying it around with him the entire time, intent on using it. My heart breaks completely in half. This is going to be harder than I assumed.

“Oh, Tom,” I whisper, and he knows the second I speak that I am not going to immediately say yes. His eyes darken a bit, his face faltering. I already know that I am going to be sick. “I want you to listen,” I lean forward and reach out, touching his wrist. “You know that I love you and that if there is a way to do this, I am going to be by your side forever, right?”

“Yes,” he says quietly, his outstretched arm finally coming down as he realizes that we are going to have a discussion. I pat the cushion next to me and he gets up off of his knee to sit next to me. The ring box stays open, though.

“Don’t you think this is a bit fast, Tom?” I ask him, folding my hands in my lap.

“I just thought…” he whispers, and I hear his voice catch a little bit as he continues, “I thought that it was important for me to come here prepared just in case there’s a chance I might lose you again.”

Tears sting at the corners of my eyes and I beg them not to fall forward. If there’s any weakness on my part, I know I will break down and give into him. The worst part is that I already want to. What red-blooded single woman doesn’t want the man of her dreams to sweep her up into wedded bliss? This just means I have to fight twice as hard to make the right decision here.

“If you don’t want to lose me, don’t lose me,” I tell him, and I reach over and wrap my fingers around his arm, trying to break him from any dejection he might be sinking into. “I love you, Tom, I do. I will always love you, and I plan to stay by your side as long as you’ll have me, it’s just… a marriage proposal is a little fast, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, I guess maybe,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I definitely did not expect for there to be a child to consider… I don’t know how to be her father yet.”

“That’s all I’m thinking,” I assure him, thankful he is more understanding than I anticipated. “It really has nothing to do with how I feel about you. I think we just need to get reacquainted, you need to be around to understand how to raise Emma… Basically, Tom, we need to be a couple before we’re a married couple.”

He absently stares at the ring, touching it a little with his fingers before he nods, closing his eyes. “I understand what you’re saying. Even if I am a bit disappointed,” he says this as he turns to me, giving me a pitiful expression for a second before smiling at me.

A warmth floods through me and I feel such overwhelming relief that I laugh a little bit and throw my arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for understanding. It makes me feel so much better.” I bury my head into his chest and he kisses my head.

“It’s really all right,” he says. He reaches over with one arm to set the ring on the table as I cling to him, then turns back around and folds me into his arms. “I know that things can’t be exactly as they were five years ago, you have Emma now to consider. And I do, too,” he says, and I nod against him, so very grateful that he knows what I’m thinking. “I guess I always thought she was a possibility, I don’t know why I even brought the ring in the first place.”

For a long, awkward moment, I am incredibly confused. What the hell did that mean that he always thought Emma was a possibility? I mean, in the absolutely huge grand scheme of things, there’s always a possibility that a child could be the result of any encounter, but it doesn’t seem possible that Tom would have known and not come back before now.  
I end the hug and frown up at him, asking quietly, “What does that mean?”

I watch Tom’s eyes widen in fear and trepidation as he swallows hard, as though he has been fighting these words for too long and now has the unfortunate task of speaking them out loud. I am scared and unsure of what he is about to say.

And with this next confession, everything changes. Everything I thought for the past five years, Tom’s return, our relationship, everything… just completely shifts. It is then that I come to the heartbreaking realization that it might not be that easy to stay by Tom’s side forever.


	22. Five Years Ago: Eight Weeks Later

Five Years Ago: Eight Weeks Later

It was two months later and Sammy was getting through every day as best she could after having one of the best weeks of her life with Tom Hiddleston. It seemed so impossible that any of it had happened, and in the weeks past the event, Sammy would sometimes wake up in a cold sweat, sure that all of it was just some crazy, feverish dream.

All she was given when Tom left was memories. There was absolutely nothing tangible that would ever prove they were together. Sammy sometimes felt the weight of this realization crushing down on her chest, like it was up to her and only her to carry on what they shared. She knew Tom was not going to come out publicly with it and he certainly wasn’t going to acknowledge what they shared to any member of the media. There was no way to know in these weak moments if she’d made it all up.

And then when she came back to herself fully, she would always remember that it was absolutely, one hundred percent real. There was no way in a million years that she could have made up such an amazingly epic love with anyone, no matter who it was.

The bottom line was that they had agreed to this, and there was nothing she could do to change that fact. When she had first met Tom, talking to him in the bar, the thought of something deep and life changing had never even entered her mind. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want to be slave to the most stirring emotions she’d ever experienced. She had just fought her way out from under the crushing weight of a man that took her love for granted. The last thing she wanted that evening was another man in her life, making her regret decisions and question herself.

And now, two months later, she was feeling everything she didn’t want to be feeling, and she was doing it completely alone.

The last night she spent at the hotel without Tom there was just as agonizingly heartbreaking as she had assumed at the time. There was no way to make her legs move as she felt the last, lingering kiss Tom gave her stay warm on her lips. She wanted to reach up and touch him, just one last time, but he turned around and left her as quickly as he could. She knew why he needed to get away, and she couldn’t say she blamed him for a second.

Sammy stood and watched Tom walk away. He piled himself into the car, giving her one last look, the look that was so special and was just for her, and blew her one kiss before he disappeared into the darkened car and drove slowly past her, out of the garage, and out of her life.

She stood until she heard the car exit onto the street a floor below her, or what she guessed was his car, and then every muscle that was locked up while she tried to remain strong completely gave in and she collapsed. She hit the concrete underneath her, hard, but didn’t seem to notice any pain above the shrieking, ripping pain that was her heart ripping itself in half. Sammy’s face flooded once more with tears and she could barely breathe as she sat in a pathetic heap in this cold, drafty parking lot all alone.

She managed to pick herself up off of the floor before any bystanders could happen by and poke their nose into her very private breakdown. She needed to go have this cry alone, so she stood up, wiped herself off, and headed back into the elevator and back up to her room.

Sammy barely made it down the hallway to the hotel room, remembering all of the vivid, mind blowing moments they shared in this hallway the first night they were together. They were drunk, rowdy, excited, and couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of each other. They had to stop at least three times to back up against a wall, touching and groping and kissing… It was so delicious and new, and it reawakened parts of Sammy’s anatomy that hadn’t been alive and on fire in so, so long. At the time, the wild, raucous time they had in the hallway was fun and tempting. Sammy found walking this hallway alone was an altogether different experience. The walls were silent and unforgiving as she strolled down, letting her fingers trail on the wallpaper, trying to soak up a piece of those memories, bring it back to her. She wanted to experience all of it all over again, try to make it seem as though this week wasn’t over yet…

She unlocked the door to their room and as she swung it open like she had a million times before, everything about what happened past this door hit her full force. Tom standing behind her on that first night, kissing her neck, tempting her, and then swinging her around and delving into her completely… she and Tom teasing each other as she stood in a hot shower and laughed at him for his British euphemisms… the seemingly hundreds of times they rolled together between the sheets and said words to each other that they knew would stand the test of time…

Sammy was so overwhelmed that she fell back against the door and slid to the floor, so consumed with feelings that she didn’t care how loud she sobbed. She just wanted all of it out of her system.

She threw her head back against the door, pleading with no one in particular. “Tom… Tom don’t leave me… Just turn the car around… Tell them you’re wrong, tell them you have someone to come back for… Don’t leave me here alone for the rest of my life… I can’t do this without you, I just can’t… Tom, please come back…”

At some point, Sammy decided that it was best for her to get up off of the floor and at least crawl into bed. She could at least be somewhat comfortable if this was all she was going to do all night. She honestly didn’t know if there was anything else she could do. So instead of fighting her depression, she gave into it and inevitably cried herself to sleep.

The days after that were a little bit easier to get through, but Sammy knew that the cloud that had descended over her would not lift for quite some time. She got back home and closed herself off in her room until she was ready to go back to work, barely speaking to her roommate when she actually saw her. She didn’t know if there was ever going to be a way to describe what happened. She definitely didn’t think her roommate would believe her even if she tried to explain it. It was hard enough to believe that you could find the other half of your soul and fall in love in a week, let alone having that other half be a celebrity. It just wouldn’t make sense to anyone.

But Sammy had to tell someone, and she knew that her best friend would probably listen to her and might actually believe her. She recalled the conversation and how incredulous Molly was at first. Eventually, she came to believe her. Molly knew that Sammy wasn’t the type of person to weave wild, ridiculous stories just to sound better in everyone else’s estimation. Molly also knew that Sammy hadn’t gone to Comic-Con looking for anything or anyone serious, so the fact that she had accidentally fallen in love with someone that would have logically been there anyway made a little more sense.

Sammy knew that her best friend was sad for her and didn’t want her to be feeling this incredible sense of devastation alone. This was the first time Molly really tried to convince her to come home.

“After a nasty divorce, your parents, and now this… Sam, I really think it’s time for you to just come back to Michigan. You can get a good job writing here, and you can help me start up my business. We can do that together if you want!”

“I don’t know about any of that, Molly… I’m not really sure if I’m up for a two thousand mile move across the country.”

“You don’t have anything keeping you there. You don’t even have a pet. You can probably pack up everything you own, throw it in a trailer, and make it up here in three days.”

“I don’t know if I want to do any of that.”

“I know you may not want to, but I really think it’s about time you came back home where you belong. I miss you and I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Then come home!”

They had reached an impasse on this particular issue, and Sammy finally reluctantly agreed that if anything else drastic happened, they would revisit the issue. Until then, Sammy really did like the privacy of being able to mourn this beautiful relationship all on her own. No one else would know what had caused her deep pain. Her roommate didn’t know and she certainly hadn’t told any of her coworkers, so it was hers and no one else’s to experience.

It wasn’t as though it went unnoticed, though. Her roommate was constantly asking her what was wrong because she seemed ‘off’ since her trip to San Diego. Sammy never gave her a straight answer. She simply told her that she needed the extra time to get over her divorce, but she knew she wasn’t entirely convincing. Her coworkers noticed that she wasn’t completely there, either, but she couldn’t offer a good enough explanation. Everyone commented that she seemed to be doing better after the divorce and was actually starting to seem halfway normal, but after her vacation she was back to being depressed.

What could she say that even began to sum up what Tom meant to her in a few words? There were no words that came close. Calling him anything other than her ‘soul mate’ just sounded tawdry and ridiculous, but a lot of people didn’t believe in soul mates. They certainly didn’t believe you could find and fall for your soul mate in such a short time.

Sammy began to wonder for a long time during those first two months if maybe there was some merit to what Molly had suggested. She had never felt lonelier in her entire life.

Things were beginning to disintegrate around Sammy, and she knew it. The soul crushing loneliness, not being with Tom, not having anyone to talk to about Tom, all of it was weighing so heavily on her that she was beginning to feel the effects of her depression physically. She was always tired, wanting nothing more than to just lie in bed and disappear into the sweet comfort of sleep. She was also very weak, as though she never got quite enough to eat, when she actually felt like eating. She was lightheaded and pale, and many had started to comment to her that she really needed to go to the doctor.

Reluctantly, she agreed, and went to see the doctor. 

So, two months had gone by since Sammy had watched the love of her life walk away from her and all she had to show for it was the last two words she ever expected her doctor say to her.

“You’re pregnant.”

“Uh…” Sammy had never been more at a loss for words than this exact instant. The doctor was standing in front of her patiently, waiting for her to speak. She shook her head and tried to wrap her mind around what he was actually trying to say. “How is that possible?”

He blinked, giving her a weird look. “Listen, Sam, if you need me to explain to you how you got pregnant, than we have a lot more to worry about.”

Normally she would have laughed at his off-color comment, but it didn’t even register. Sammy was so distracted, trying to fathom what this all meant. “That’s not what I meant… I mean… how can I be pregnant? I don’t have sex… like… ever.”

“When did you last have a period?” her doctor asked, flipping open her chart as though he had to spell out the birds and the bees for her after all.

Sammy blinked, trying to recall the last time she actually remembered having a period. Had she been so wrapped up in her grief the past two months that she had forgotten to pay attention? Normally she was on top of that kind of thing. She hadn’t been taking birth control pills or anything like that for a long time, since she and Zach had stopped having sex and it didn’t seem worth it to put herself through the grueling side effects that came along with the pill. She was sure that she and Tom had used protection, so none of it seemed right…

“I guess it was in July,” she whispered finally, and the doctor gave her a satisfied smile.

“You’re pregnant,” he repeated. “Let it sink in.”

“Oh my god,” Sammy finally said, and she felt her stomach flip-flop a hundred times before she was ready to speak again. “This is unreal,” she breathed.

“That’s one way to look at it,” her doctor said with a laugh. “Well, if you want, we can go ahead and get you a referral to an obstetrician, I know plenty that are very good...”

The doctor kept talking but Sammy could no longer hear him. She was staring straight ahead, into an incredibly vast, scary wasteland where she was stuck there, screaming for help and there was no one around to hear her. She had never, ever been more frightened in her entire life. Not when she was left alone after being married for so long and not even when her parents had died at the same time, leaving her essentially an orphan. Nothing was scarier than the prospect of impending parenthood.  
Sammy didn’t make much of an attempt to converse with the doctor for much longer. She nodded, grunted in agreement, and got up to leave. She was given her referral and barely even noticed what was happening as she left the office and drove straight home. The numb, shocked feeling followed her all the way back to her apartment and into her locked bedroom, where Sammy was intent on getting right into bed to try and sort everything out.

She wordlessly shut and locked the door, turning around to turn on the small television set that sat on her dresser. If she was going to scream and cry, she certainly didn’t want her roommate walking in and hearing her while she was carrying on. Then she would have far too much to explain to her, and she couldn’t explain this to herself right now, much less anyone else.

The moment she hit her pillow was the moment she began to feel. From the tips of her toes all the way through the top of her head she felt, slowly, without warning, the sinking realization that she was carrying the child of the man that so easily ripped her world apart.

And if everything had been different and they’d decided to handle things another way he would have been here to discover the news with her. The tears came so fast and so powerfully that Sammy didn’t even have a chance to fight it. She lay in her bed for almost twenty minutes crying until she was mostly cried out. She rolled over onto her side and stared at the wall, allowing every thought to fly through her brain, whether it was good or bad.

Dammit, Tom, how could you walk away from me? How could you leave me? How could you decide that it was okay for me to fall in love with you and then take it away when it was just starting to become real? How could you walk away, knowing that there was a possibility that this could happen? Don’t you want to know that you’re having a baby? Don’t you want to be in a family with the woman you said you would love for the rest of your life? Where are you now? Where are you?

Sammy chose to ignore the millions of unanswered questions in her brain as she let the television drone on in the background. She closed her eyes and tried to think back to all the times she and Tom were together physically, trying to pinpoint a moment where this might have happened. It wasn’t that she felt it was a mistake, because in her estimation, babies were never a mistake if you were anxious to have them. It just wasn’t the way she would have chosen to do this. She had done it right the first time around, gotten married and done the dutiful wife bit even when she so desperately wanted to escape, and she hadn’t been rewarded with a loving husband and she certainly hadn’t been blessed with children.

She chose to do it the right way the first time and was rewarded with a divorce. So she gave into her feelings, allowed another man in, a man that changed the way she viewed the world, and she was given this perfect, wonderful gift that she couldn’t share with anyone.

Sammy’s stomach churned the moment it hit her. Tom. What the hell was she going to do? She had to tell him about his baby. There was no question that he deserved to know about it. Even if he couldn’t take the time from what he was doing to be with her, surely he would drop everything when he found out that she was pregnant. He would come back. He had to. He was the type of man that would do that.

And all at once, Sammy became really excited, thinking of calling up Tom and telling him what was going on. She knew, instinctively, that he would be there within a day, holding her and kissing her and loving her, just being by her side, and maybe, maybe this would all work out okay.

Sammy gripped her chest to calm her hammering heart. This was it. This was their time to get back together! They didn’t have to wait years before they could be together again. Tom had promised her that their story wasn’t over, and that he would eventually come back to her. Maybe this was what it was supposed to be all along.

This was happening. There was a baby. Tom’s baby. Everything was going to be okay.

Sammy sat up in her bed, reaching over underneath the fitted seat for a small scrap of paper she had tucked there a few weeks back. She had kept Tom’s number in her phone for as long as she could stand seeing his unused contact there. There was far too much temptation to call and text him, begging him to come back and be with her. She wouldn’t succumb to that weakness, and she certainly didn’t ever want Tom thinking of her that way. So she decided the best course of action to avoid anything she would eventually come to regret was to delete his contact… but not before she wrote down his phone number and kept it in a safe place, in case she ever really needed it.

She stared down at the scrap of paper with the hastily written number on it, anxiety flooded her body and she hotly debated making the phone call. She thought she might be too excited to actually do it, but she knew it had to be done. She checked to see what time it was. It was almost one in the afternoon, Pacific time, so that meant it was almost nine o’clock in the evening in London, if that’s where Tom was currently. That was fortunate. It wasn’t too late for her to give him a call, let him know what was going on. Hopefully he wasn’t in the middle of anything.

“Here goes nothing,” she said, and with trembling fingers, typed his number into her phone, and after another deep, calming breath, pressed ‘send.’

Sammy’s heart started pounding so hard that she couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood in her ears. She felt as though at any moment she was going to be sick, so instead of holding it off, she put the phone up to her ear, ready and exceedingly anxious for Tom’s voice on the other end.

It was as though her entire world shattered a second time in two months when she heard the beeping on the other end, followed by the stoic, impersonal voice, telling her that the number she dialed had been disconnected. Soul crushing despair filled her entire body as she stared at the phone in disbelief.

“No, no, no!” she cried, frustration beginning as she ended the call and tried the number again. She lifted her phone back up only to be greeted with the same message. She tried again and again, getting more and more frustrated, crying and screaming and sinking deeper and deeper into the knowledge that this was it. She was not getting Tom back so easily. She was not going to be able to bring him back for their baby.

Sammy knew, after throwing her phone across the room, that there had to be a way to get in touch with him. She had access to Twitter, she knew who his publicist was, and she had every ability to track him down, but how crazy would that look? Who was she? It was entirely possible that Tom kept her and their relationship tightly under wraps, not even telling those closest to him about it. If she were to just randomly call up these people, would they even take her seriously?

It was entirely possible that she could be chasing her tail for many, many months, and by then it would be too late. The baby would be here and then Sammy would have someone to protect. She wouldn’t thrust her child into the middle of all of the media firestorm bull. She wasn’t going to do that.

And as Sammy sat on her bed in a sobbing heap, it dawned on her that going out there and trying to track Tom down with this news would just leak back into the media somehow. Obviously there was no way to keep something this big quiet, especially when it was about a celebrity that was so, insanely popular. Things would get out, the rumor mill would start up, and then it would be a never ending struggle for Tom to maintain his status as a respected, classically trained English actor. More than that, if they actually did get to be together to celebrate the coming of their child, the media would constantly be at the back door, listening and waiting for something, anything, that they could plaster all over for the world to see. This was just all too unacceptable.

Sammy was no expert, but the more and more she went over it, without the direct line to Tom, she realized there really was only one option.

She was going to have to do this alone.

She stood up from her bed, wiped her face, and headed straight into the bathroom. That overwhelming need to throw up finally overtook her and she sat at the toilet, vomiting until she couldn’t do it anymore. She sat back against the wall, closing her eyes and enjoying the breeze of the open window on her wet face. It felt soothing, and she knew right away that this pregnancy was going to be incredibly hard on her.

Tears ran down her face again as she wished, for one fraction of a second, that Tom was here to take care of her. If this was going to be rough on her, which she knew most first pregnancies were, then it would be nice to have him by her side. She needed someone to hold her, make her feel like it was all going to be worth it in a few months when the baby came. Right now, she was so alone that it felt like facing down the next seven months was going to be a nightmare.

She allowed herself the moment to imagine what it would be like for Tom to be here. He would come into the bathroom, cradle her in his arms and stroke her hair, and then maybe even carry her back to bed. She could hear his soft, deep voice cooing in her ear, telling her he loved her and that he would make her feel better. Everything about it felt so comforting, so warm, and yet… so distant and unreal.

Sammy couldn’t do this for much longer, sitting here, wallowing in her sadness, waiting for something to happen that just wasn’t going to happen. After all, there was someone more important to consider now.

She stood up and headed back into her room and picked up her discarded phone, sitting on the bed as she stared into space. This was going to be a long journey, and she definitely needed someone to help her out. The only person she could think of to turn to was Molly, and she knew that Molly was going to give her so much grief for not telling Tom.

But she didn’t know, she wasn’t in this predicament. She didn’t have a child to consider and a lifetime after the child came… What kind of life could she condemn them to? All three of them? Why would she bring her child into the world with scrutiny and negativity bearing down on them? It wasn’t fair, and she knew she was being fairest to her child by making this decision.

And besides, maybe Tom would come back sooner than anticipated. Maybe he’d be on her doorstep tomorrow… there was no way of knowing. She hoped it was sooner rather than later. She wouldn’t even be able to stand up to greet him without an explanation.

She shook her head and stared down at her phone, trying to decide how to start typing the numbers when an all too familiar voice caught her attention. Through her blurry, tear soaked eyes, she could see the faintest figure, but the words and the voice were loudly magnified in her head.

It was Tom. It was another advertisement for The Avengers, which was going to be coming out in theatres for a second on Labor Day, so it was pretty common. Right now, though, it was the last thing she wanted to see. Anger filled her entire body and she stood up, facing her television, and out of nowhere, she started screaming.

“WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?” she demanded. “WHY? Why did you make the decision to walk away from me? WHY? And WHERE ARE YOU NOW? Dammit, Tom, I need you! I need you now more than I’ve ever needed anyone in my entire life how don’t you just know that right now?” She was hoarse from screaming and she dropped onto the floor. The commercial was over, so there was no need to yell anymore, but she was on a roll. “I can’t believe you looked me in the eye and walked away,” she sobbed. “How could I let you walk away?”

Sammy was so tired of crying, but it was necessary. It was going to take her a long time to come to terms with what was going on, but until then, she could at least accept what was going on and take care of the baby growing inside of her. After all, it was part of her and part of Tom.

This baby was going to be her token of the love she and Tom had shared.

She gingerly placed a hand on her stomach, not knowing what to expect when she did so, and then closed her eyes one last time, letting the sadness seep out of her as she embraced the hope and joy that she really did feel after hearing she was pregnant.

“It’s just you and me now, kid,” she whispered to her still flat stomach. She opened her eyes and smiled, imagining the journey ahead of her. “Let’s figure this out.”


	23. Present Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for sticking with my story to the end! I hope you enjoy it and make sure to stick around for the sequel :)

Present Day

It is the next morning and I wake up alone. I feel sad and disheartened at this, because I honestly thought after Tom came back into my life that I wouldn’t have to wake up alone anymore. But Tom had made that next to impossible with his confession the night before.

I couldn’t believe my ears when he told me. I felt so angry and so betrayed , and I tried so hard to forgive it and understand it, but I just couldn’t do it. I ended up throwing him out of the house and asking him to give me the night to consider what he had just told me. Tom was dejected and heartbroken, thereby causing me great pain, but I knew it was right.

Unfortunately for me, Emma asked only a few minutes later where her daddy had gone, and I had no idea what to tell her. She’s too young for the truth, but she’s old enough to sense that things are not as stable as they should be in this household. Above all other things, I am most ashamed of that fact, because I am a mother first, a lover second.  
Instead of dwelling on the multitude of mistakes I have made, in the past few days and the past five years, I opt to push the thoughts out of my brain and just get up and around. Thankfully, Emma is not awake yet, but when I see that it is only six in the morning, I realize that I must not have been able to sleep last night. 

I start a pot of coffee and stare at the empty, quiet kitchen. My heart hurts as I recall the previous day, bustling about in here, making dinner, cleaning dishes, doing the whole domestic bit with Tom as though it were as natural as breathing. I want to recapture it so bad, but I just don’t know if I can forgive him yet. There is so much that I want to tell him, but I had to get him out of the house so that I could think and process without his beautiful face in my line of vision, distracting me from what was really important.

I have to decide what course of action to take from this point. Tom wants to get married, raise Emma, and live the rest of our lives together happily. I really do not see a problem with this plan as a whole, but I do not even have the slightest clue as to where to begin with it. Especially after last night.

I decide to take advantage of the fact that my house is quiet and sit down to get some writing done. I have another couple of chapters to submit soon, so I really need to get over the crap that’s going on in my personal life so that I can get to work. I can’t afford to get my book deal cancelled because I’m an overemotional wreck.

Luckily, I am able to lose myself quite well in my writing. Amazingly, I take what I am going through and channel it into some very emotional moments for my characters. It’s nice that I am not so overly distracted by what happened last night to really let it get in the way of my writing.

After I have a good chapter behind me, I take a break, stretch my legs, grab another cup of coffee, and go to check on Emma. She is still sleeping soundly but I know I am not going to get that luxury for much longer. It is closing in on eight, which is usually the time she starts to stir. I stand in the doorjamb and stare at her for a few minutes, thinking about all the circumstances that brought her into my life.

She is my baby and I love her so much that it hurts to even think for a second that she would be unhappy. She is my blessing, my own perfect little miracle, and I couldn’t have asked for a better title in my entire life than ‘mommy.’ If my only reason on this planet for meeting and loving Tom was to make Emma, than I am okay with that. She is all I need.

But the longing in my heart hurts so bad that it feels as though it’s about to rip me right in half. I want to cry, thinking of all the things that I could do so much more easily if I had a partner in all of this. Not to mention the fact that being away from Tom feels as though I am missing a limb. He is so much a part of me now that it is undeniable.

I realize now, as I stand here and stare at my beautiful strawberry blonde angel as she sleeps, that regardless of what Tom has told me and what he has done in the past that may have changed everything about my future, I have him to thank for all of it. Maybe it is in my best interest to not only forgive Tom for his mistakes, but to accept that I have made mistakes that he has forgiven me for as well. It took a lot of courage for Tom to get over what happened to him when he came to visit me for the first time in five years, and it took even more courage for him to tell me what he told me last night.

Aside from that, I have found that after losing Tom a first time and finally, after an agonizing five years by myself, getting him back a second time is such an unabashed miracle that I cannot lose him again. My poor heart just couldn’t take it.

Everything from the night before plays out in my head as I try to figure out exactly what I am going to do to figure out this mess. I close my eyes and I hear it all over again.

 

Tom begins after kissing me, “It’s really all right. I know that things can’t be exactly as they were five years ago, you have Emma now to consider. And I do, too. I guess I always thought she was a possibility, I don’t know why I even brought the ring in the first place.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, as I pull away from him.

Tom gulps a bit before he shifts himself on the couch away from me. He doesn’t speak for a moment, instead, he runs his hand through his hair and squeezes his eyes shut tight, as though whatever he has to say is causing him such massive pain in his head that he can’t get beyond it to speak. For just that one fraction of a second, I am completely and utterly terrified. I have no idea what is so bad that he cannot tell me.

“Just say something,” I beg after the silence stretches to the point where I cannot take it anymore. I am desperate for him to say what he has to say.

That’s when it happens. That’s when he opens his eyes and studies me for a long, long minute. His ever changing blue-green eyes are full of tumultuous thoughts and words that he still can’t articulate. I hold my breath and he finally speaks, his deep, lyrical voice sounding so sad and broken that I almost break down myself. “Okay, I have something of a confession to make, and I’m really quite afraid of what you’re going to say once I admit it.”

“Tom, seriously… you need to quit dancing around this and tell me what the hell you meant saying that you ‘expected’ Emma,” I tell him, my voice now low and dangerous as I realize that he is going to keep hemming and hawing until I force it out of him. “I didn’t even expect her.”

“Okay,” he says, and he takes one more deep breath before continuing. For a brief second I recall how many times he has insisted that he’s just a typical man, and I recognize that his inability to actually start this tough conversation is very typical. “Do you remember that night five years ago when I told you that I wanted to take you away and marry you and have kids with you and we made love over and over again until the sun came up?”

I flush at the memory. How could I forget it? “I do,” I admit.

“Do you remember that we didn’t leave the room until we absolutely had to the next day… when I had to leave for my flight?” he says, his eyes swimming with a mist of unshed tears.

My eyes immediately go misty as well. I remember how hard that day was and how insanely difficult it was to get through the next couple months of my life before I found out that I was pregnant and there was something more important to worry about. “Yes,” I whisper, emotion clogging my throat.

“Well…” he scratches his head again before answering, “well, I didn’t tell you this… and for so many reasons I kept it to myself for years… but…” my heart starts hammering in my chest. I wait, on bated breath for his explanation. I couldn’t speak now if I wanted to. “That last night, I realized that I had run out of… protection…” I frown at this. I’m not sure to what he is alluding, so he heaves an exasperated sigh and says, “Condoms.”

“Oh.”

“I had the strangest thought about it when I saw that I had used my last one, a thought that… since that night, has plagued me…”

Comprehension dawns on me before he even has the ability to finish his sentence. I look over at the hallway, where Emma’s room is, and it hits me so fast that I almost whirl from the force of it. “Are you about to say what I think you are?” I ask, just to make sure that I am not jumping to conclusions.

The fear in his eyes proves that I am right in my assumption. Tom deliberately made the decision not to find more protection, which ultimately led to Emma’s conception, and something that has changed my life forever. If there was ever a moment that I struggle to decipher how I feel about something, it’s right now. Before I get too lost in my own thoughts, though, I decide to let him finish.

“I made the conscious decision not to get more,” he says, “and I also made the conscious decision not to tell you about it.”

There are so many conflicting thoughts fighting the bloodiest of battles in my mind, trying to fight to be the first words out of my lips. My face grows hot and my stomach starts to churn. How can I even decide how I want to feel right now, and what could I possibly say that would make any sense? Instead of debating it, I squeak out, “Why?”

“Why didn’t I tell you or why didn’t I go buy more?” he asks, genuinely puzzled at my question.

“Just… just why?” I say, managing to keep the war of words from sliding off of my tongue as I remain patient, waiting for him to explain. If motherhood has taught me one thing it is patience.

“The truth is…” he begins, burying his head in his hands for a moment while he rubs his face wearily. “I really thought that somehow… somehow something would… would happen… like… like Emma…” He drags his words as though he knows that after his explanation will be a very violent explosion. But in that instant he gathers up his strength and sits back against the couch, turning to look me in the eyes. “I took a chance and I gave into this insane notion in my head that if we threw caution to the wind and something beautiful like Emma happened, I would have that reason, that excuse to come back to you. And I knew you would think it was absolute insanity, so I chose to keep it to myself. Then there was silence… for five years.”

I hear the war still raging in my head, the beating drums of war as I try to pick through the complex emotions I want to delve into all at once. If there was a way to have seven different conversations and yell at Tom and demand to know what he was thinking all at once, I would, but unfortunately, I have to pinpoint one damned emotion at a time to sort through, so I know this is something that is going to take a long, long time.

I decide to open my mouth and let my first thought fall out, regardless of what it might be. “How, Tom… How could you lie to me?” I cross my arms against my chest and hold myself tightly. “You promised that we would always be honest, and you broke that promise.”

“You broke it, too.”

My jaw drops. “I wouldn’t have had to break it if you hadn’t deliberately gotten me pregnant!”

“That wasn’t the intention,” he assures me, and I know that he wants to reach out and touch me but my anger has formed a protective barrier. I know he won’t breach it. “I really knew that it was a possibility, but I didn’t give it that much thought. I just wanted you, completely, and if something had to happen afterward, something like Emma… then I was okay taking that chance.”

My brain finally stops warring with itself long enough to kick me an emotion I can work with. Anger. I sit up straighter on the couch, my face twisted in my fury, and I see Tom sit back a little. I must look pretty frightening. “But maybe at the time I wasn’t okay with taking that chance, Tom!” I am shouting and I know I have to keep it down because of Emma but I can’t seem to help myself. I just hope that her movie is loud enough to cover my voice. “Don’t get me wrong, Tom, Emma is the most precious thing in my love and I would die for her, but you have to understand, when you decided not to use condoms, you took away my choice. And if nothing else, I deserve a choice. I am so fucking infuriated,” I finish, putting my head in my hands now. My head has started to pound from it all. The last thing I need is a migraine.

“That wasn’t what I wanted to do, Samantha, that’s not what I thought would happen.”

“Then what did you think would happen, Tom? Seriously? Obviously you had an idea that Emma was a possibility, and if you did, why didn’t you keep your phone number?” my voice cracks as I ask this last question. I had no idea I’d been holding onto this until right now.

He frowns slightly, his brow creasing as he tries to understand what I am asking. “What d’you mean?”

“I called you, twice actually,” I say, remembering. The first time I called him I was so drunk that I didn’t even process the fact that no one answered. I simply hung up the phone and went onto whatever else it was I was doing. The second time I tried to call him was when I found out I was pregnant, and for some reason, I had a bad feeling before I even dialed. It wasn’t until a while later that I remembered why, but the utter shame and despair I felt at not being able to get in touch with Tom lingered for a long, long time. “I called you when I found out I was pregnant and your number was disconnected… I really had hoped you would have at least reached out if you were going to change your number… I wanted something, but all I got was nothing,” and I hug myself one more time. I realize that I am trembling. “And then you go and tell me that you had an idea that I could have gotten pregnant and you didn’t even bother to keep in contact with me? Why was that my responsibility? Solely? That’s not even remotely close to being fair!” I am aware that I sound similar to my daughter when she’s throwing a tantrum, but I don’t care. I’m right.

“First of all, Samantha, I am so sorry,” he says, and then he does scoot closer to me on the couch, reaching out and taking my hands. I allow him to do this, because regardless of how mad I am, I could really use the comfort. I hear the desperation in his voice. This is the moment where I realize that Tom really believes that his mistake and subsequent confession is going to make him lose me. My heart breaks at this thought, because at this point, I don’t really know what I want. “But you have to believe me, my phone number changing really had nothing to do with me.” I frown at him, disbelieving, but he continues on. “No, seriously, my love you have to believe me. Luke, he takes care of all of that nonsense, and after those pictures of us surfaced he thought it would be best, so we wiped my phone and I had my contacts backed up, but unfortunately your number was so new it didn’t get saved in the original back up. I promise you I did not do that on purpose. I am so deeply sorry for leaving you when you really needed me the most.”

And even though I am seething with anger and betrayal and full, absolute agony knowing that my unplanned child was not that unplanned, I still love this man with all of my heart and soul. I want to know that he always loved me. Against my better judgment, I sniffle and ask softly, “What would you have done if I had called you?”

Tom’s eyes twinkle when I ask this, and I know that he has been wondering what his answer to this would be ever since he found out about Emma. The shadow of bliss crosses his features as he tells me, “I would have been very surprised but uncontrollably excited,” he smiles now a bit and I feel myself warm up to him even though I am determined to stay upset. “I would have dropped everything I was doing and flown right to you without a second of hesitation, because you are my love, my soul, and my miracle.”

The tears fall down my face silently as I stare at him. He is glassy eyed but he does not cry, and I shake my head, looking away. “You still betrayed me, Tom.”

“I know,” he whispers, and he leans forward a little more, squeezing my hands so tightly that for a second I think he is going to pull me close. “But I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. I can do this. I can be there for you, I can be a good father for Emma, I can do this, Samantha. I love you.”

I look down at our joined hands and I want to melt into him, tell him to take us away from all of this and do what we should have done five years ago. He has given me the opportunity to come with him, to be his wife and his companion, the mother of his child, maybe someday children, and all I have to do is say yes.

And then I remember all of the deceit, the lies, the betrayal… Five years he kept this secret from me, the fact that he took my life into his hands without consulting me and then abandoned me when I needed his help the most, knowing that at some point there was a possibility I might need him. I think about him showing up here randomly after five years without making any attempt to call or forewarn me, knowing what he did five years ago, and then making me feel like the most wretched, awful human being for not telling him about Emma sooner. He knew that whole time that there was a chance she could exist, and yet he chose to hide the information from me and stay mad at me.

I don’t know what I can do to forgive him.

I pull my hands away from his grasp and I have to let my eyes stray from his face quickly before the shock and anguish can register and I am forced to give in. “I think you should go.” I hear him start to protest and I shake my head. “Just for the night, please, I’m begging you,” I say desperately. “You can come back tomorrow and see Emma if you want to, but I really need the night alone to just think and sort through everything you’ve told me…” I turn my head back around and peer at him, seeing the devastation that has trampled his beautiful features, making them insanely heartbreaking to look upon. “If you stay here I am just going to immediately forgive you and forget what I was mad about, and I have to stand up for myself. Above all other things, you have to let me have my dignity.”

This changes his opinion entirely. “I can do that,” he whispers, and he appears to want to reach out, but we both know if he does that I won’t let him leave. He stands up abruptly and heads to the door. I follow him, seeing him out, and he pauses just as he is about to leave and turns back to me. For a second I feel the weakness spreading through me and I am about to beg him back in when he whispers, “I hope, no matter what you decide, that you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” With a small, sad smile, he disappears out the door, leaving me alone for the night.

 

Blinking, I come back to myself in the present. So much happened in the course of such a short conversation that it did take me the entire night to sort through all of my feelings. I wasn’t even sure if I was ever really going to be prepared to forgive him for what he did, but I came to an even more stunning conclusion during my contemplation.

I recognized the fact that Tom’s actions in the past weren’t the worst part of the whole situation. Choosing not to go buy condoms is a forgivable offense. I did make the conscious decision not to tell him about my pregnancy when there were probably more indirect ways to get a hold of him. That was something I decided all on my own and I have paid for it in more ways than one. Now, I have to handle what Tom did and also accept the fact that it was a stupid mistake, like mine was as well.

The worst part about all of it was that if Tom knew what he was doing, knowing that a baby was possible, then he should have done exactly what he wished he had all those years ago. He should have just said ‘screw it’ to all the rules we set up and sailed me off to London with him, and then we would have been together when we found out I was pregnant. The fact that he willingly gave me this child and then turned his back on me to let me figure out myself is what is most unforgiveable.

I am still having trouble deciding whether or not this man can be trusted down the road.

For now, though, I am exceedingly lonely and I love Tom on such an insanely soul deep level that I can’t imagine going through my life without him. Five years was hard enough. Going even a day longer sounds like a death sentence to my poor, fractured heart. And I highly doubt that any man in this entire universe will ever be able to make me feel the way Tom Hiddleston has.

So I am torn in my decision to either forgive Tom for what he has done, or hold a grudge against him and lose him forever.  
In an instant, I know that I have actually made the decision already. I can’t live without Tom. I cannot do it. I’ve already tried to do this and that entire time I do not consider myself completely happy. I have Emma, and she has always been enough for me, but the rest of my life just didn’t make as much sense.

It really felt, for five years, like I was living half a life. I was just here, making do with what I had. I enjoyed watching my daughter grown and learn every second, but people tend to forget when you’re a mother that you still have a part of you that is very much a woman. A woman with needs, emotionally, physically, mentally… you need adult interaction, you need affection and kind words and love and someone to wash your hair when you’ve had a long day and you have spaghettios stuck in the strands… The never ending love and warmth of being a mother, the most satisfying job on the planet, also comes with its serious, serious meltdowns, especially when you’re doing it alone.

Emma was colicky. I blame that mostly on my inexperience as a parent and the fact that the only other person I had guiding me was Molly, who isn’t any more maternal than I was at first. She would scream and cry for hours and hours and I went for a few days on maybe twenty minutes of sleep here and there when she would actually fall asleep for a second. I went half insane for a long, long time, sitting up in my bed at all hours of the night, crying and sobbing as my baby cried in the bassinet next to me. I cursed Tom, swearing to no one in particular that I regretted every decision to meet him and even think of having sex with him. I should have known, just looking at him that first night how virile he might be. It was bound to happen and I should have known better. I should have been on the pill or something. How was it fair that I had to do this all by myself?

And then Emma started to get better. She developed quickly, physically and mentally, began speaking before many of the children in her age group, and started to learn things very, very fast. The best part was that she was finally developing her little personality. I started to really know my child and bond with her. That was probably the best part, it was almost like meeting someone for the first time and getting to know them with the already present realization that you were guaranteed to adore this person. Emma became the darling little creative, energetic rose she is now and I just loved her.

But it was at that point that I started to remember the gentler, more loving times when Tom and I were together. I remembered that man that, at great risk of getting recognized and hassled for the rest of the night, approached two random street musicians and paid them to play a song just for the two of us to dance to. I remember the man that threw caution to the wind and told me he loved me even though he knew how much harder it would be for him to say goodbye after he said it. I remember the man that held me when we talked and I cried about the end of my marriage while he never batted an eye. He was everything to me and would always be the one that got away. It would be that way until the day I died. There was no way any other man was ever going to hold a candle to him. I accepted that torturous fate with a tired smile plastered on my face. I tucked that part of my identity away, because it wasn’t the most important one anyway.

Here I am with this conundrum once again. I definitely know what I want and what decision I really desperately hope to make. I want to let Tom stay. I want to tell him to never leave me. I want to take that beautiful yet tastefully simple pearl engagement ring he bought me and tell him that I’ll be his forever. Unfortunately, I know this decision is a hell of a lot more complex than just screaming out the first thing that pops into my tired brain. The real question is do I choose what is best for me and my heart, not to mention my confused, impressionable child, or do I choose what will make me the happiest?

Emma starts to stir and I pull out my phone to check the time. I know that it must be closing in on eight o’clock already and it seems as though I have no choice but to wake her up. In only an hour I have to get her to school, so she needs to have time to wake up, get dressed, and eat before we head on out.

However, as I unlock my phone to check the time I see that there is an unread message waiting for me. I don’t even get a moment to realize that the phone number is Tom’s because the words written are all too telling. My heart leaps into my throat when I see his written words in front of me. All at once, I am saddened and feeling slightly guilty that I somehow managed to miss his text message. I am also inexplicably excited to be hearing from him already.

I take it in hungrily, then unlock my phone and open up the full message. Tears spring to my eyes when I begin reading.  
‘Samantha, I’m sorry about everything that happened last night,’ it begins. ‘I completely understand why you had to have the night to think about what I told you, and I only hope you were able to contemplate everything that was absolutely necessary.’ I smile at this, because even though I so abruptly and cruelly threw him out last night, he knew how much I needed it. One thing I always appreciated about Tom was his inescapable ability to empathize.

It is the next part, however, that causes my blood to run cold with fear. ‘Unfortunately, I have been called to the set sooner than expected. I’ll be needed no later than tomorrow morning to start principal photography. I am so, so sorry that I had to spring this on you because I truly expected that production wouldn’t start for another two weeks.’ I feel the tears coursing down my cheeks, cold and unforgiving. After such a short amount of time that I had him, he is going to be snatched away from me again. I could have had my two weeks and truly enjoyed every second of it. I could have him for the full five years, but it is best not to dwell on what ifs. Right now, I have to read his text message and figure out what I am supposed to do.

‘I know this is insanely sudden while everything between us is up in the air. You probably haven’t even been given adequate time to properly think things through, but I wanted to make sure I let you know as soon as possible because I want to see my girls before I have to leave for Detroit.’ As anguished as I am, I do feel a sense of warmth pumping through my heart when he refers to Emma and me as his ‘girls.’ There is one more text after this, and I notice that it came in rather recently. He is probably waiting for my response, so I quickly finish before I can text him back. ‘I sincerely hope you are willing and able to see me today. I don’t know how I could go to Detroit for several months without saying my goodbyes. Please let me know as soon as you can. Love, T.’

My mind goes blank momentarily. I know right then that there is probably never going to be a time in a life I share with Tom where this isn’t going to happen. I honestly cannot see him ever leaving the business, even if he chooses at some point to stop taking on actual projects and works behind the scenes. I suspect he’ll be writing, producing, or helping get other struggling young actors some exposure. It would be just like him to do something like that.

Tom Hiddleston is never going to be a regular, average civilian, like me.

It takes me a second to fully accept the gravity of my realization when I hear the small, tired voice at my feet asking for me and I know that regardless of what I have just been told by Tom, my busy day has now begun.

We go through our usual routine of getting fed, dressed, and ready to go, and the entire time I guide Emma along I am twisting my fingers, deciding whether or not I should text Tom quite yet. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to ask him over before I pick up Emma from school, because without her around to ground me and remind me why I have to stay strong, I will throw myself at Tom and beg him not to leave me.

If this is going to be it for us, forever, then that is not at all how I want him remembering me.

I gather up Emma and head to the car, trying to ignore the absolutely excruciating pain that is my heart breaking in two. My logic has finally caught up to the desperate wishes I have soaring in and out of my mind. I know now that this is probably going to be the last time I get to see Tom for a long, long time, maybe ever. I know we both feel the same way about having to say goodbye a second time. The first time was bad enough, but that was agreed upon. The second time… the second time will damn near break us. I definitely don’t think a third one is in the cards.

My anxiety over this entire relationship starts to severely surface on the ride to school. It ebbs for a moment when I drop Emma off at her class and say goodbye, but returns the moment I turn my back on her and make the long, lonely journey back home. I know that any more writing is out of the question for a little while. My stomach is churning, my head spinning, and I am closer and closer to forgetting everything I am promising myself and curling up in a tight ball underneath the covers on my bed. I no longer want to see the light of day if I can’t have the man I love.

I decide, finally, to send the message that I have been avoiding sending. I have to wait for Emma to get out of school before I can allow Tom to come over here, but he texted me sometime around seven that morning, so I need to get back to him. I don’t want him to think that I am avoiding talking to him because I am still contemplating what he told me.

Sighing heavily, I take out my phone, unlock it, and open up the text message thread I have from Tom. His words stare up at me, words that he must have sat and considered so carefully to express all of those complex emotions in his heart. I know for me, no combination of twenty-six letters can accurately depict to Tom what I truly feel for him, but I’d like to think I try my best to make him understand.

So in response, I begin typing to him, speaking aloud to myself to make sure that the words don’t sound too ridiculous. “Tom,” I begin, and after I type his name, I take a moment, steady myself, and begin. “First of all, thank you for being so understanding and empathetic about why I needed time to process what you told me. For the sake of my sanity and dignity, I definitely needed the time alone to sort through my thoughts about it.” I am happy with this beginning. I need him to know that I truly do appreciate him for all of his inner goodness. But now I wish I could tell him that I have forgiven him, that no matter what he did and what I’ve done, we could just forgive one another and move on.

I am uncomfortable texting this because I don’t know where we stand and I am scared of a possible rejection. So I choose instead, to stay silent, and I carry on with my text.

“It is too bad you’re leaving early, but I understand. We discussed the demands of your career when we first met, so for me to hold a grudge now would be silly and unfair.” I almost start telling him how badly I want him to stay and how much I wish he could be here to get to know Emma, but there is no need to make this any more emotional than it needs to be, especially if he’s going to come here and face me for the goodbye. I read the next few lines of his text, trying to decide how best to respond to them. He mentions things being up in the air between us and then comments that I haven’t had enough time to think about things. My fingers itch to type that I have had the time to think and I have definitely decided where things should fall, but I restrain myself. I skip over all of it and get down to the nitty-gritty. I know I am being unfair and that Tom probably worried about how he would ask these questions without being obvious, but I can’t tell him anything, especially in a text message. “I greatly appreciate you telling me what’s going on immediately. I am sure Emma would love to see you again before you have to go. I have already taken Emma to school and I still have quite a while before I go pick her up. If you’d like, you can meet me at the house after I go pick her up from school and we can visit so you can say goodbye before you have to leave.” My heart beats wildly in my chest at the thought of saying those words to Tom for the second time. “I hope that’s all right and that you are willing and able to come by later. I’ll talk to you soon!”

As soon as I have hit send on this last text, I set my phone down on the table in front of me and stare at it, hard. For a moment I am positive that I am going to set it on fire with my gaze but nothing happens. Instead, I swallow hard, leave it be, and get on with my day.

I push the text conversation out of my mind and get a good deal of work done. After I have written enough, I take a break to clean up the house a little and grab myself a bite to eat. Before I began writing I took my phone and placed it far out of reach in the living room so I won’t continuously pick it up and check the messages. Because I have done this, and not checked it in probably three hours, I know I am bound to have missed something.

Sure enough, I see the missed text message when I open up my phone. Tom has responded to my own long text, but for as lengthy as his last one was, this one is just as short. ‘I will be there,’ and a smiley face icon are the only words he sent to me, but they are just enough. They are perfect.

I set my phone down and sit down on the couch, feeling an odd sort of emptiness settling deep into my chest. I am happy that he is coming but at the same time I am not looking forward to the moment I have to look this man in the eye and once again, send him away.

There is absolutely no doubt about it. I love him. How can I possibly take my slowly healing heart and stomp all over it… again?

 

The insane loneliness I have been feeling since I received Tom’s last text message has not gone away. In fact it has gotten worse as the hours have passed on. I so want to see him, lay eyes on him once more, breathe him in, touch him, feel him… At the same time I wanted these last few hours to drag on as long as possible so I don’t have to say goodbye.

And yet time passed. It passed quickly, in fact. I am driving home from Emma’s school with my daughter in tow. She is not as talkative today therefore the normal chatter that fills my car is gone, leaving in its wake a stretched, uneasy silence. I almost assume that Emma realizes something bad is going to happen soon and this makes my heart hurt. I don’t want her to lose her daddy just as she has found him and is creating a bond, but if I didn’t want this pain for anyone, I would have declined Tom’s offer for a drink in that bar five years ago. I am the one to blame for all of this heartache.

Finally, we approach the long dirt driveway leading up to my home. As I turn into it, I take the opportunity to reflect on everything that has happened this past week and where I was mentally then as compared to now.

It has been a little over a week for my entire world to be shaken up to a point where I will never be the same again. I had really thought, for a long time, that I would never see Tom again. I honestly thought Tom would end up finding out about Emma through an indirect source and not from me. I could only hide the truth for so much longer. Now I understand that everything leading up to our reunion was truly serendipitous. I was starting to come to terms with the fact that Tom had to know. I was contemplating getting in touch with him for the first time. Zach showed up, for crying out loud, and I was able to assuage all the unresolved anger I was still holding onto regarding my ex-husband. It brought me to a better place, a place where I was finally ready to bring Tom back into my world and accept him with all the love and repressed desire I had stored up. Above all else, Tom’s production schedule syncing up and bringing him to Michigan, of all places, was the final piece of this grand masterpiece.

Why should this all of have fallen into place if it wasn’t meant for us to be together?

My eyes have glazed over but I come back to myself fully when I pull up to the house and see Tom’s vehicle already waiting for me. I immediately have two reactions; on the one hand, I am excited to see him already, but on the other hand, I am scared because I do not have time to prepare myself for this conversation.

Either way, he’s here now so this is happening.

We pull up to Tom’s car and I give him a small wave when we spot each other. He smiles warmly at me and gets out of his vehicle as I am preparing to get out of mine. It is then that Emma starts chattering, excited about seeing Tom again. A fresh wave of that stabbing, gut wrenching pain swallows me again, thinking about how this is Emma’s first and probably not last time saying goodbye to her father.

Emma is practically bouncing out of the car when I open the door for her. She runs, top speed, over to Tom and throws herself at him. He greets her with a loving laugh, bending over and pulling her into his arms, squeezing her against his chest tightly. He asks her about school and she is more than delighted to tell him about it as holds her in his arms, beaming up at her. My heart warms at the sight of the two of them, father and daughter, sharing this tender, beautiful moment that cannot be recaptured. I wish with all of my might that I can give Tom those years back that he missed. I would have given anything to be with him while we watched her grow up.

I walk over to him and our eyes meet as Emma chatters continuously, so many unspoken words travelling between us. Now, confronted with those annihilating sea blue eyes, I have the insane urge to spout every single thing that I was trying so desperately to repress earlier. In my mind, I watch myself as I pathetically throw myself at his feet, beg him to stay, tell him I forgive him for anything and everything he did because he unwittingly gave me the gift that is my beautiful daughter. I sob, pleading with him to never leave me again because I cannot take saying goodbye to him one more time. The woman I see doing all this is a pitiful, lonely old woman that can’t accept that life just isn’t fair.

I do not want to be that woman. Not anymore.

Tom smiles at me with a sweet sadness in his eyes and I have no choice but to turn away from him. Right now I feel like the worst thing that could happen is for me to burst into tears. After all, I am trying to maintain the façade that I am calm, cool, and collected. I do not need any man in my life that will make things harder on me. I do not need a man that will disappear on me without a second thought. I can do this. I can do this.

These four words become my mantra as I lead the three of us into the house and we all settle in the living room. Tom holds onto Emma for a while longer, letting her tell him about her day at school. He asks her a seemingly endless amount of questions and she talks and talks and talks, but I do not even register what she is saying. I am too busy staring at Tom, studying him as though this is the last time I am ever going to have the opportunity to drink in his features. I notice the way he can’t seem to tear his gaze from Emma. He is staring at her just as hard as I am staring at him. The lines of his handsome face all of a sudden look deeper, more worn, and for a second, I see something flash across his face that makes him look… tired.

My eyes water for the first (and certainly not the last) time today. Tom all at once seems like a man who contemplates throwing it all away for the chance to be with his daughter, his family, his girls. I wish frantically at times that he will, but I know that his work is just far too important to him. I couldn’t ask him to give up something that makes him so happy all because I can’t spend another night alone in my bed. What kind of monster would I be for the rest of my life if I did that?

“And ‘cause it’s November, we get to talk about Thanksgiving, and the color brown, and how cold it gets outside. We’re going to go get leaves and stuff, but it gets cold outside, and Mommy says I have to wear my hat and my gloves while I pick up leaves, or I’ll get sick!” Emma is explaining rapidly, gesturing widely with her tiny little hands.

“That would be a very bad thing,” Tom says, flashing his wide, toothy grin. “We don’t want you to be sick.”

Emma opens her mouth to start talking again, but I jump in before she can get started. If I don’t, she’ll talk for hours uninterrupted. “Em, why don’t you go take your shoes and coat off and play in your room for a minute so Tom – your daddy and I can talk for a little while, okay?”

“O-kay,” she says dejectedly. Tom wraps her in his embrace before she gets down, holding onto her tightly. Emma winds her arms around his neck and sets her head on his shoulder. All of this is done wordlessly and I am struck by how tender this moment is. When they are finished, Tom whispers in her ear, loudly enough for me to ear, “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you, too, Daddy,” she says, and before he sets her back down on the floor, she gives him a kiss on the cheek. His face lights up, and as she runs from the room, he seems for a second to be the Tom I know and love so well. After she leaves the room though, his features darken again and he withdraws.

“I am very sorry about this,” he says after a beat of silence. His voice is quiet and I have to approach him to hear what he is saying. “I did not expect that they would need me this early.”

“Like I said before, it’s really all right,” I explain, sitting in the chair opposite the couch. I clasp my sweaty hands together because if I let them have free reign they will somehow find their way to Tom and never let go. “It’s the demands of your career and I understand that.”

His face grows even darker when I say this. “I wish it wasn’t the case at times.”

I frown at him, knowing that my prior suspicions were true. He has considered giving everything up for me. For us. “What are you talking about? You love your work.”

“I absolutely do, there’s no doubt,” he assures me. “It’s just that I wish there was more leeway. I want to be able to…” he begins, but his eyes meet mine and he falters. My heart skips a beat, thinking he is finally going to say what I so desperately want to say but can’t. If he says it first, I can maybe admit it, too. “I don’t know what I want, really…”

“I think you do,” I whisper to him, averting my eyes and staring down at my fingers.

“I think you do, too,” he says just as quietly. I glance back up and see him peering into me, waiting for the response he knows I want to give. I just can’t be the first one who says it. I am far too stubborn. The least I can do, though, is put his mind at ease about our fight the night before.

“I um… I wanted to make sure you know something…” I begin after a pause. Tom seems to deflate a little bit after I say this. I suspect he wanted me to confess whatever it was we both want to say, but can’t. “I wanted you to know that I did give last night a great deal of thought.”

“Yes?” he says, not expecting me to lead with this. He seems hopeful, finally.

“I forgive you for everything that happened,” I say. Tom breathes a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and allowing a faint smile to cross his lips. I continue on, happy to see this reaction. “We both made so many mistakes, and it’s silly for us to keep arguing over them. As long as you’re not hiding anything else from me…” I say, giving him the chance to indicate that he didn’t have anything else to confess before I continue, “The past is the past and it’s silly to continue fighting because we can’t go back and change it.”

“I agree,” he says, his eyes starting to regain their sparkle. I lose my breath for a second. He is so beautifully captivating.

“I’m glad you do,” I tell him. “Because I want to say, one more time, how sorry I am that I didn’t tell you about Emma sooner… I realize how big a mistake that was. You would have been fantastic with her and I really missed having a partner in raising her. I will never be able to prove to you how sorry I am.”

Tom sits and says nothing for second, but then moves so swiftly that I don’t have time to prepare myself. He pops up off of the couch and comes over to me, taking my arms as he lifts me out of the chair and folds me into his arms for a warm, welcoming embrace. Everything about this gesture hurts me on the inside and I go to war with the tears that try to claw their way out of my squeezed eyelids. Above everything else, I will miss being in this man’s arms the most of all. I always feel like I’m at home here, wrapped up in him, my head tucked in that perfect place against his chest, right where I can simultaneously listen to his heart beat while breathing him in completely.

He starts to sway while I am here. He is resting his cheek against my forehead in this long, silent moment where we just enjoy being entwined. No words are spoken. No words need be spoken. I find myself wishing, hard, that this moment never has to end, but I know at some point it’s going to have to. I can’t hold onto Tom until the morning. It only takes three hours to drive there from here, but I can’t expect him to stay until the very second he has to leave.

We pull back from this embrace and I peer up into Tom’s eyes. They are glistening and I see the struggle playing out across his face as he tries hard to hold back the tidal wave of tears that I know are threatening to come forward. I know how real that battle is.

“I’m so glad you can forgive me for that,” he whispers to me after he struggles a moment to find his voice.

“I’m glad you forgave me, too,” I say, trying to disguise the obvious emotion that is clogging my throat. “We both made mistakes. It’s worth moving past it. For Emma.”

Tom’s face contorts into an incredibly heartbreaking expression that I will forever remember as the exact moment I came undone. He was obviously expecting for me to say something about us, something to answer his question about us being ‘up in the air’ and makes it more obvious for us that we are staying together. He wants me to ask him to stay. I see it in his brimming blue-green eyes, the set of his jaw as he tries to give me a sad, perfunctory smile. He wants to maintain but he is not doing a great job. I can read every single thought in his murky, tear laced eyes.

And that’s when it happens. Every single wall I am putting up to safeguard my heart from this torturous end comes crashing down to pieces. I feel all the breath leave my lungs and I am struck so hard for a second that I do forget completely how to inhale for air. Tom looks slightly concerned as I struggle, gasping, but I recover quickly enough that he keeps his distance. The tears I have been fighting so hard against finally come gushing forward, pouring down my face in unending rivers of hurt and sorrow. Tom maintains his stoic, unmoving attitude and I can’t say that I blame him. He has given me every opportunity to say something and I have scoffed at each attempt.

“I can’t do this, Tom,” I finally manage to say when I regain some semblance of control. Tom clenches his jaw, trying hard not to emote any more than he already is, but I can see all of it anyway. This just serves to rip my heart apart even more. The pain is undeniably excruciating. “I can’t say goodbye again.”

Tom looks away from me, hard, trying to force the tears to stay back but he is unsuccessful. A single tear slips out of his eye and down his cheek. “I asked you, Samantha… I tried to ask you if I should stay.”

“We both know you can’t,” I whisper to him, wrapping my arms around my waist. “You have your work.”

“You’re right,” he says with a nod, looking down at the floor as he clears his throat. “But what about Emma?”

It feels like my heart is being squeezed in a vice and I just want to collapse, let the emotions heave through my tired, grief stricken body. If Tom is going to leave, he needs to just go. He wants to take a page out of my book and talk about Emma, not about us, and that’s okay. Maybe it’s best if that’s what we stick to. Emma is a subject we can safely navigate without hurt feelings.

“You are her father,” I say quietly. “You are free to come visit her whenever you want.” I take a deep breath and gather up the last remaining scraps of my strength. “No matter what happens…” I stop before I say ‘between us.’ I don’t need to finish the thought, anyway. “You’re still Emma’s daddy and I want you to be a part of her life now that you two know about each other. Don’t ever for a second think I want to keep her from you.”

“I don’t,” he mutters. He picks his head up and looks me directly in the eyes. I see the hardness in his eyes soften as he gives me a characteristically warm smile, saying, “You’re a good mother.”

I didn’t realize after what I’ve been through today that my soul could feel any more pain, but here it is. The statement is meant to be a compliment, meant to praise me and make me feel good, not hurt me, but it does all the same. A fresh wave of tears spill out of my eyes and they are chock full of bitter regret. I wish that things were different. I wish that Tom and I had been together before maybe this decision wouldn’t need to be made.

What more can I do, though? I can’t ask Tom to stay. He has a career and a home in London, not to mention his family that lives there. He has so much more to his life than what I have, but at the same time, I can’t uproot my baby and just expect her to adapt to a completely new life in a foreign country. All she knows is Michigan. All I know is America. I don’t even know if I could acclimate, much less force that upon a four-year-old.

I sense that Tom is coming to this conclusion as he stands here. I blink away the tears so I can see him better and I know that I must look like a completely horrible mess, and I honestly don’t care. I feel so cold standing here alone, only my own arms to keep me warm and I wish he would bring me back into his arms.

“I want the opportunity to be a good father,” he says after I have silently sobbed for a minute or two. I pull myself together and stand up straighter. “I really hoped we could figure something out… we did leave things loose.”

“We did,” I whisper. I don’t want to have this conversation. I just need for Tom to go if he’s going to go. “And I wish I had a better answer for you, Tom. I really do.”

He takes a step toward me and we are now close enough that I can feel his breath on my face, feel the warmth he exudes. I fight every urge to throw myself at him and drink him in completely. He searches my face with his anxious, exploring gaze and I debate whether or not it is a good idea to do everything I want. He reaches up and in a movement that is torturously slow and incredibly agonizing, he uses the back of his hand to brush the hair off of my shoulder, gently grazing the skin of my wet, tear stained cheek. I close my eyes as I feel the shiver run up my spine at the contact. He leaves his hand on my shoulder, his fingers absently playing with my hair as he stares down into me. I think, for a brief, uplifting moment, that he is going to lean in and kiss me, but it is too much to hope for.

“I understand,” he says. “There’s so much to consider. And you’re right… I can’t stay.”

“I know,” I choke, and tears fall down my face again as I swallow my pride and I lean my head down to touch his hand, just to feel his skin on mine one last time. I see his jaw tremble a bit and he turns his fingers toward me and cups my cheek. “I’ll never love anyone like I love you,” I manage to whisper to him.

That is when I see the dam break for Tom and he closes his eyes, crying, as he nods. He doesn’t dare open his mouth. I cannot imagine what might come out if he does. Before he is able to say anything at all, Emma comes running back out after having spent what she feels is an adequate amount of time in her room. She looks up at us curiously but says nothing about it.

“Sweetheart, say goodbye to T–” I pause, remembering myself and feeling a little pinch of pain in my heart as I realize that Emma is, in fact, losing her newly found father, “to Daddy.” I say all of this as quickly as I can, before she has the opportunity to start asking speaking. If I have to cut her off and let this drag on for much longer, I know that I will not be able to let Tom leave.

She frowns deeply and I can almost hear the gears grinding in her active little brain. I take the quick second she is silent to admire how beautiful she truly is. She really does look a lot like Tom and it’s not just about her curly red hair. She and I may share the dark brown color, but her eyes are wide and curious like his, not quite large and probing like mine. The similarities do not end there. It is in every single facial expression that I see Tom so plainly. Whenever she’s genuinely puzzled about something she gets a crinkle in the bridge of her nose that is Tom to no fault. She has his wide, amazing grin that seems to light up her entire face, and with it, the entire room. Every so often I’ll see a look in her eyes that makes me miss Tom, and I have not really understood just how similar they are until this moment. I look from my genuinely confounded daughter up to my pained lover and see the expression mirrored on his face. If there was ever a single doubt in anyone’s mind about my daughter’s paternity, this is the answer.

“Why is my daddy leaving?” she asks. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly because of the way she has asked this. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that tears are just a short moment away for my baby, and I don’t want her to cry. It’s bad enough I have to watch the man I love more than anyone else in this entire universe crying.

“Darling I’m not leaving forever,” Tom finally interjects when he sees that I am faltering. He breaks the small amount of contact we are sharing to bend down and tend to his daughter. “I have to go for a little while, but I’ll always come back to you. I promise.”

Emma does not really understand what it means that Tom has to leave. She gets the concept of people returning, but I can see her reaching into the small amount of knowledge she has at four to try and comprehend what is happening. Why does she get a daddy who then turns around and disappears for however long? How is that fair?

I see everything play out on her precious little face before her lip starts to tremble and the tears begin. The moment her tears fall I have to step away. I sit down in my chair and bury my face in my hands and sob as quietly as I can without looking up. I do not know what is playing out in front of me because I cannot see what is going on and I don’t want to.

The moment I am actually ready to lift my head is when I feel the small warm hand against my knee. I know it’s Emma, but when I raise my head up to look finally, I see not only Emma staring into me, but Tom as well, who is still on his knees on the floor. He has one arm wrapped around her, holding her tight, and he gingerly places a hand on the chair to balance himself. My heart falls as I come to the conclusion that this is the last time my little family is going to be altogether and I cannot take it. I reach out and touch my daughter’s now dry cheek. I assume Tom cleaned the tears off of her face. She is concerned for me and I really wish she wasn’t. There’s no need for her to be worrying about me. I want to pull her into my arms but I can’t take her away from Tom. Not yet.

It is then that he reaches over and takes my hand in his, giving it a small, loving squeeze. I finally meet his gaze and he gives me a sad, watery smile before he whispers, “I really should go.”

I don’t want him to go. I want him to stay. I want us to figure something out. I don’t care what it takes, we can do this. The tearing frantic emotions clang around in my head, beating out any of the logic that surfaces, telling me that these wants are absolutely impossible. There is no way this is going to work. I shake my head and close my eyes, willing this moment to be over so I can move on with my life.

“I wish…” Tom begins and I open my eyes again. His face is tragic and I cannot bear it a moment longer. “I wish things could have been different.”

“You have a life that can’t stop for me,” I assure him. I’ve been a mother for so long that my go-to is now to nurture. I don’t want anyone to feel bad, especially those I hold dearest to my heart. “You need to go back to that life.”

He opens his mouth, as though he is about to say something else, but he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he closes his lips, gives me another sad smile, and then turns back to Emma. She is staring at him wordlessly, her bottom lip still stuck out as though she is about to burst into tears at any moment as well. I see his jaw tremble yet again, more tears falling down his face as he reaches out and gives her chin a little affectionate pinch before he draws her into his arms, hugging her so tightly that I hear her grunt.

“I love you, Emma,” he whispers to her.

“I love you, Daddy.”

Before everything completely falls apart, he releases Emma to me, trying to get her as far from him as he can before he stands up and all but runs to the door. Normally, I would follow him out, but there’s no way I am going to be able to make my legs work while he’s still here. He pauses at the door, turns back to me, and gives me that same look, that look I know so well, the one that is just for me, and he starts to say something again. I expect he’s trying to say what he said before and he appears anxious to finish his thought but he doesn’t. He simply closes his mouth, smiles, and disappears out the front door and out of our lives.

The moment the door latches shut, I start to sob. Loudly. I feel Emma tapping me and I reach out for her, drawing her in so that I have some form of comfort right now.

Tom is gone again and I have let it happen. Again. I didn’t fight for him. I didn’t demand that he stay. I didn’t tell him that the sun and moon set on my love for him and that he is everything I need to breathe. I made the same mistakes today that I made five years ago, all for a matter of pride. What good is pride if I am alone again?

I sit there with my daughter squeezed tight against my chest, drowning in these tears of absolute regret, but I know that life is going to have to move on soon. I don’t want Emma to be sad and I certainly don’t want to be depressed for the rest of the night even though I know that it’s an impossible dream. I carefully stand up, still holding Emma in my arms, and I walk with her into her room. She is upset but I know that getting her distracted with a movie will help. I put in Finding Nemo and stroke her hair for a couple of minutes until I know she is engrossed in the film.

I wander back into the living room and finally, after what feels like the most agonizing and insanely hard days of my young adult life, I collapse in the middle of my floor and cry until I feel that I have no tears left to cry. At some point soon, I am going to have to pick myself back up and get on with my life. I doubt I’ll be able to do that right away.

I manage to move from the middle of the floor back to my chair when I realize how ridiculous I am being. The tears, however, do not stop. I curl myself into a tight ball and bury my head in my knees, determined to forget that this day has happened.

I love Tom Hiddleston and there is nothing, absolutely nothing I can do to ever change this fact. Maybe someday we’ll be together, but now is just not our moment. It’s not. I know that now because I didn’t have the courage to stand up and tell him how I felt. He no longer has the courage to stay and beg me to tell him how I feel, and I don’t blame him. After everything we’ve been through, I cannot expect the man to be a saint. He is, when it comes down to it, a man.

I lift my head for a moment to catch my breath and I tip my head back, shutting my eyes and squeezing them to shed the last few tears that are caught there. I know I need to be an adult. I have to do this. I have to. I just have to.

It’s then that I hear something strange and I lower my head, open my eyes, and get the surprise of my life when I see Tom standing in my doorway.

He is frazzled, red faced, and covered in tears. He is breathing heavily, clutching the doorknob, and above everything else I feel all at once upon seeing him again, I am mostly just shocked. I slowly untangle myself and stand up from the chair. I can at least not be a big messy ball of sadness. There has to be a reason he’s back here.

I open my mouth to ask him what’s going on, but before I can even get a single word out, Tom swiftly crosses the room in three large steps, grabs me by the waist and by the neck and crushes me to him, kissing me so deeply and intimately that I feel myself meld right up against him. There has never been a kiss as good as this one in the history of all of the times I have kissed a man, including Tom. This is a kiss to end all kisses, and I never, ever want it to end.

And a thought occurs to me that maybe for a second he has returned to give me this kiss as a goodbye, but the way he is holding me, the grip he has on me that tells me he never wants to let me go completely dismisses that thought.

This is the kiss of a man that is fighting for what he wants.

We continue to kiss as our tears mingle together and I taste the salty liquid against my lips while I cry and hang onto this man. I never, ever want to let him go again.

Finally we break apart and Tom now has both of his hands on my face, holding me close so that he can look into my eyes. I know I am imploring him for an explanation and he gives me a wide, happy grin. “I can’t leave you again, Samantha. I can’t do it.”

“Tom, I don’t want you to leave,” I tell him, my voice breaking as I cry. “I don’t want you to go. Please, please, please don’t go.”

“I’m never going anywhere again,” he promises me, pulling my head close so he can place a kiss against my forehead. He wraps his arms around my back and holds me tight. I wrap my arms up under his and bury my head against him, right where it belongs. Another thought crosses my mind and I lift my head up off of his chest and peer up at his beautiful face.

“What about the movie? What about your career? Tom, I don’t understand –” I prattle on but Tom puts a finger on my lips to silence me.

“Sh,” he says, and his fingers stroke my jawline as he stares at me. “Whatever it is, we can handle it. What does any of that matter if I can’t be with you? I can never say goodbye to you again, my love, and I mean that. With every breath in my body and every beat of my heart, I cannot live another day without you.”

“I can’t do this without you anymore, either,” I confess to him. “And from now on, I don’t want to.”

There’s a stirring in the other room as I hear Emma calling for me. “I’m out here, baby, and your daddy’s home!” I say, and I giggle because there is so much happiness in me that it is bubbling up to the surface.

I hear an audible gasp and Tom and I both laugh. A few seconds later Emma is running into the hallway, stopping just before she gets to the living room in disbelief, and then sprinting over to us when she sees that I am telling the truth. Tom breaks away from me to bend down and receive her as she throws herself into his arms. She latches on around his neck tightly and he holds her against him, so happy to have her back in his embrace that I am sure they will never let each other go. My heart swells and emotions overwhelm me once again that day.

Tom lifts her up and turns to face me, his face so alight with absolute joy and happiness that it is all I can do to keep from breaking down. I step closer to him and take his free hand as he holds our daughter easily across his other shoulder. He smiles widely down at me as the tears course down his cheeks.

Everything is perfect and no matter how we have to manage this from now on, we are going to do it together. There is no way I can let this man go a third time. He is mine and I am holding onto him forever.

I smile at Tom and Emma and really feel myself getting used to this, my little family. The family Tom and I unknowingly created when we decided five years ago that we were going to spend a very intense seven days together. That time, when a simple ‘yes’ made all the difference when a beautiful movie star asked one broken woman if he could sit next to her at a bar. One different answer and I wouldn’t be here with my daughter and her father, the man who completes the other half of my soul and will never, ever be anything less than that.

“I love you,” I whisper to him, kissing him again.

As we pull apart, he smiles down at me and without batting an eye, whispers, “Marry me?”

I take a deep breath, stare up at Emma, who still has her head resting against Tom’s shoulder, her tiny arms laced around his neck. I observe how natural it is for Tom to hold her, how much emotion pours into every statement he makes. He is beautiful. He is everything. And most of all, he is mine.

I close my eyes and think about the love we have, the life we can create together, and everything that we can do now that we are here, together, and I realize that there is never going to be a moment when I don’t want to be this man’s wife.

So there is not even the slightest bit of trepidation as I open my eyes and look up into this man’s face, this man that I am going to start this journey of forever with, and whisper back, “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm so glad you enjoyed the story!! I have a surprise for you: This wasn't the last chapter. There's an epilogue and a short 'deleted scene' after. Then the sequel :) Stay tuned!!


	24. Present Day: Two Years Later

Present Day: Two Years Later

“My love, you look exquisite in that dress.”

“I’m glad you think so. I feel like death.”

Tom and I are standing in a hotel room in Park City, Utah, preparing for the night’s festivities. We are here for the Sundance Film Festival, a ten day cinematic and press event that has actually been quite exciting and interesting.

The moment Tom came back for me two years ago was the single greatest moment of my recent memory. Things between us were hectic, but we fought hard to stay together because that was what we wanted. Detroit was a short three hour drive from where we were, so whenever he had even the slightest glimmer of time off he was at home with us, getting to know Emma and planning out our future.

It took a great deal of negotiating and many, many nights of discussion and mapping out, but we were absolutely determined and eventually we came to a compromise. Our main concern was Emma and where she would be educated and what would be considered too much stress for her. She was familiar with America and Michigan, the school systems here and I was steadfast in my resolve to raise her in the states where I was comfortable. Tom assured me that the schools in London were great as well, but he wasn’t necessarily adamant about forcing us to move there. After all, he had been working and filming in America quite extensively, so it wouldn’t be nearly the culture shock for him to stay here. However, Tom’s family (and subsequently, Emma’s grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and other extended family she hadn’t met yet) was still in London, so there was also the matter of spending some time there.

Ultimately, we decided it was best for everyone involved if we kept the cottage in Michigan to live in during the school year, and then travel to London whenever Emma had time off of school for the summer or holidays. It seemed to appease everyone involved with the quiet understanding that our lives were going to be uprooted on occasion when we wanted to be with him.  
It didn’t matter. We knew we were going to make this work because we were a family, and above all else, we love each other endlessly and just couldn’t be apart a second longer. Other popular actors can do it, so why couldn’t we?

So after that was all figured out we tackled the very sticky matter of being engaged as an American citizen and a British national. Tom contacted his attorney fairly quickly and we managed to get it arranged so that there wasn’t anything keeping us from planning our wedding. I didn’t want anything overly huge and Tom was very sweet and understanding about it. Really, the only family I had to invite was Molly, so I felt incredibly awkward planning something incredibly elaborate with only one person showing up for me, that one person being my maid of honor.

There was one thing in this entire negotiation that Tom was absolutely resolute on, however. Against my most bitter, desperate pleas to the contrary, Tom insisted that I meet his family before he would agree to put any of our plans in action, which included the marriage.

This was something I had considered over and over again, for Emma’s sake, but I never, ever expected that I would have to meet Tom’s family in any other kind of capacity at all, much less as a fiancée. The mere thought of meeting his family caused me so much stress and terror that I fell sick for a long, long time.

Tom assured me over and over that there was nothing to worry about and that he would explain the situation to everyone before I had the chance to meet them, but it didn’t matter. I had an idea of how I must look to anyone not directly in on the situation and I could only imagine how I must look to someone’s parents. Our entire relationship, broken down into its simplest form, did not paint a flattering picture. When I met Tom, I was already divorced, heartbroken, and vulnerable. In walks Tom Hiddleston, a beautiful stranger that happened to be a rather famous actor that I picked up in a hotel bar and then took to my room and had sex with on the first night we met. After that, we spent one week together, and yes, our love was real and deep, but it was one week that resulted in the conception of an illegitimate child that I chose to keep hidden. Five years later, Tom decided to come back, only to be blindsided with the news he was a father, which ultimately ended in an accepted proposal a mere four days later.

If I were Tom’s mother, I would think his new fiancée was a lying, deceitful slut. This thought was not comforting.

But it was Tom’s wish that I meet his family, regardless of what happened, and I hate to deny him much since he missed out on so many years with us, so I reluctantly agreed. He promised to explain before we met and he told me not to worry too much about it because it might make things worse. So, without further ado, we jetted off to London the moment we all had available time to take the trip and set about the insanely terrifying task of meeting the in-laws.

Fortunately for me, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had imagined it would be. It turned out that after Tom landed in London five years ago after leaving me, he was quite a mess and leaned heavily on his family for support. He told them about what we shared, convinced that they wouldn’t understand, and fought with his younger sister for years about coming back for me. When I met her, she actually told me she was surprised I took him back at all. She and I became good friends right away.

Thankfully, they had this prior knowledge about me and had their time to process the fact that we had been together, and that I was divorced, and all the other things that I was still nervous about. I was scared to my core that everyone would be upset with me for keeping this child from them, but again, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the reaction wasn’t all that hostile or angry. They greeted Emma with love and enthusiasm and showered her with gifts and affection from the moment we stepped off the plane to the moment we headed back to the states. His mother took some time to warm up but wasn’t completely unreasonable about everything that had happened. Tom’s parents were divorced, so I was quickly forgiven for that part of my history and eventually, both of his parents came to understand and accept my reasons for keeping this secret. It is not exactly a black and white situation, and thankfully, everyone was reasonable about it.

After that, it was a quick, nearly painless process to tie the knot. We were able to make most of the plans from America and I did a lot of the heavy lifting while Tom worked. Molly was especially helpful and Tom’s sisters, Emma and Sarah, were incredibly supportive as they took care of the details in London. When it came time for the wedding, Molly, Emma, Tom, and I all flew out and spent two weeks in England. Molly was thrilled because she had never been there and we ended up having a great time with our small, intimate ceremony.

And in all of the time we were together before we got married, all the time we’ve been together after, and all the time we will share from here until the end of our lives together, I’ll never forget the look on Tom’s face when he saw me on our wedding day. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before… No expression could ever compare to Tom’s that exact moment. His eyes flooded with tears, his face lit up, and as he tried to maintain the most exuberant smile I’d ever seen, he faltered and started crying, crying so hard that he had to cover his face and I was immediately brought to tears myself. We stopped before the ceremony could even begin as I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him tightly as we cried together, completely unanimous in this overwhelming flood of emotions at finally, after a long, agonizing journey and so much time apart, this was the indication that we would never be away from one another again.

We are at last together and it has been wonderful being married to my soul mate ever since. And now, a little over six months later we are here, in a hotel in Utah for Sundance. For the last two years Tom has been desperate to collaborate with some other people in the business to produce his own movie. He confessed to me he has always had an idea of putting something together but didn’t have the courage and inspiration to do so until I came back into his life. He has been consistently calling me his muse and I have been honored to be that for him.

Now that he has his own project airing at Sundance, he is absolutely overjoyed. It has been quite a long road to get here but it has all been worth it. Tonight will be the first official screening and he is probably more nervous about this than he has been about anything else he’s ever done in his career. After all, this one is his baby.

As for me, the entire time he has been working on it I have been insanely excited for him. I am trying to be an encouraging and supportive wife, getting him to feel better about it and assuring him that everyone is going to love it. Emma has joined in on the support, making adorable cards for him every time he’s having a particularly bad day on his project or is becoming discouraged. It doesn’t happen often, but Emma’s drawings for him always brighten his mood. She has come with us to Sundance. It is an experience we want her to share with us because this film is so important to Tom.

I was desperately looking forward to this festival as a chance for us to take a small vacation as a family while we supported Tom’s career and came together. This would also afford us a rare opportunity to be out together as a family, which didn’t happen often. As expected, the media went nuts when rumors of Tom’s engagement and long tucked away child surfaced. We knew it was going to happen and we discussed how to handle it. There were plenty of celebrities that would take the direct approach, coming out with the story and talking about it so there were no rumors or misconceptions, or there was the avoidance approach. We decided it was best just to keep to ourselves, not put our child out there to get hurt and scarred by what idiots have to say. Little girls have a hard enough time in this world. We didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Sundance was one of our rare family outings and we were all looking forward to it.

Unfortunately, a few days before we were set to travel out to Salt Lake City, I started to feel a little depressed. It really confused me because of how excited I was, but I couldn’t seem to shake the overwhelming symptoms of a crushing depression. I was constantly fatigued, nauseated, and really lacked the will to do much more than lie in bed. It was upsetting and I tried to attribute it to stress and the nasty winter season that always made me feel a little under the weather. Tom was concerned for me because I wasn’t my usual perky self and coupled with his overwhelming nervousness about the festival, I was afraid I was going to pass on whatever I had, physically or mentally, to him.

Tonight, though, I am trying my hardest to feel better for him. I want to be at my normal level of perkiness, so I am really putting an effort in as I get ready. A few weeks ago I found this stunning strapless red dress for the premiere, something that was somewhat formal but not completely Academy Awards red carpet worthy, and I have been incredibly excited to wear it… until tonight, when I started slipping it on and feeling as though it just wasn’t going to look all right because of how bad I felt on the inside.

Tom, as usual, disagrees. He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and I try to give him my most sincere smile, but can’t manage to do it. I just feel too damn awful. I know I look amazing in this deep red satin with a black bow around the middle that I adore. My hair is loose and perfect, complete with highlights again and my makeup is flawless, but I have absolutely no desire to do much more than sleep right at this moment.

“You look absolutely delectable,” he says, and he wraps his arms around me, placing his chin on my shoulder as we stare at each other in the small hotel room mirror in front of us. I give him a smile to let him know that I am trying, trying to feel up to what we are about to do as much as I don’t want to. He knows better, though, being the one person in this universe that has been able to read me like a book from day one. His brows furrow as he stares at me, seeing that my smile does not quite reach my eyes and he steps back, turns me around to face him, and peers directly into my face. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right? You’re not yourself, even a little.”

I shrug. I don’t want to fully admit to anything because I don’t want my husband to even be a little doubtful right now. This is his night and I need him to be at his absolute best. He’s already questioning himself, something so unlike him that I know for a fact he is anxious about this.

“I’m all right, sweetheart, I promise,” I say, trying in vain to wave him off. I don’t think he’s so easily convinced.

“You’re not fooling anyone, come here,” he says, and he leads me over to the bed where we sit down. Emma is sitting at the desk where she is doing some of her homework that I have told her she has to finish on vacation instead of the weekend before she goes back to school. I’m trying to teach her that getting things done early are more satisfying than the last minute, but it is a struggle every second. She’s only seven, after all. As we settle into the bed, she stops what she’s doing at the desk and looks over curiously, looking just like her father when she crinkles her nose.

“Are you okay, Mom?” she asks me, making to get up from the desk.

I give her a smile and shake my head. “I’m fine, sweetie, finish your homework, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, dejected. I know she’s honestly concerned but I also know that she wants a reason to stop doing her homework.

I turn back to Tom and try to convince him I’m okay, but he is determined to get to the bottom of my issues. He reaches a hand over and strokes my cheek gently, frowning. “You feel very cold. Are you sure you’re all right? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“Yes I have,” I tell him, even though I don’t much conviction into my protest. “I’m really excited for your premiere tonight, and I don’t want you to worry too much all right?”

“I don’t think so,” he says, and he turns around and grabs his phone off of the nightstand next to the bed. He swipes through it a couple of times and I frown, staring down at the back of his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m texting Luke,” he tells me simply.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not going to let you stay in this hotel room alone tonight. We have to figure out what’s going on with you.”

“So… Luke is a doctor, too?” I ask with a small chuckle.

“No, smartass,” he says, laughing at me. “I’m going to have him come over and stay with Emma while we run downstairs to get you something to make you feel better.”

I roll my eyes at him but my heart warms at his earnest need to take care of me. Tom has been an attentive, caring husband from the beginning, and I will always appreciate how he nurtures me. Before he came home to me I had to do it for myself. It’s a relief to give up that burden.

“I’m in my dress and I still have to do my makeup!” I protest, putting a hand on his knee to get his attention. He peers up from his phone and stares at me quizzically. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he says, but he looks back down at his phone and continues to text.

“Tom!” I say sharply, and both he and Emma look up. “Seriously! I’m fine. Maybe I just need something to eat, that’ll probably make me feel better.”

“When was the last time you ate?” he asks me suspiciously, setting his phone down on the bed.

I really try hard to think about it, because honestly, this settling fatigue has not afforded me an abundant appetite, so I’m not eating too regularly lately. It takes me so long to answer, however, Tom sighs, exasperated, and gets up to grab the room service menu to find me something to eat. “You know what happens when you don’t eat,” he chides, and I roll my eyes again, settling back onto the bed. The moment I do, I close my eyes and instantly feel like the room is spinning. I know that my blood sugar must be low because all at once my stomach starts to churn and I have to actively fight the urge to run to the bathroom and throw myself over the toilet. I try to talk myself out of it as I hear Tom’s voice start in the background.

“There’s plenty on here we could get sent up fairly quickly, what are you in the mood for?” he asks me, but his voice sounds a million miles away. The blood is churning in my ears, my head is pounding, and my mouth is salivating. Before he can even open his mouth to read anything off to me, I realize that the thought of any food is too much and I jump up off the bed and run into the bathroom quickly, try to slam the heavy door behind me, and throw myself over the toilet just in time.

I hear Tom drop the menu and come in behind me. The last thing I want him seeing is me throwing up, but for better or for worse, right? He opens the door and I hear Emma coming up behind him as well, saying, “Daddy, what’s wrong? Is Mommy sick?”

“Everything’s okay, darling,” he says, and I look up as he gives her a kiss on the head and sends her back into the other room to get back to her work. He closes the door somewhat and bends over, rubbing my back soothingly. “Do you need anything?” he whispers.

I shake my head and put my forehead down against my arms. I don’t think that I’ll have to vomit again, but there’s always a chance, especially if Tom mentions something that sets my stomach churning again.

As Tom stands up to get a cool washcloth for my face, I have a stunning realization and I start trying to do some quick female math in my head. I am trying desperately to remember the last time I remember having a period, and I find that I cannot come up with the exact number. Things have been so hectic with Tom’s movie and Sundance coming up that I have lost complete track of my cycle, something I’m usually pretty good about paying attention to. I haven’t been taking any birth control and likewise, Tom and I haven’t really discussed the possibility of having more children. We aren’t actively planning and we aren’t actively trying to avoid it, either.

Now as I sit on the cold floor of the hotel bathroom things start to make sense. The fatigue, the depression, the loss of appetite, and now the nausea, it all attributes to one thing. I pick my head up and scoot up against the wall, setting my head there as I try to process what could be happening right now.

Tom turns around and kneels down and places the cold washcloth against my face. It feels incredibly refreshing on my clammy forehead. I am thankful that I haven’t put on my makeup yet. He brushes the fallen strands of my hair aside and takes my hand, giving me a reassuring smile. “Are you feeling a little better?”

I take a deep breath and nod a bit. My stomach is better, but the rest of my body still feels beaten down. I open my eyes and give him a wide smile as everything starts to really click in my brain. If what I am assuming is correct, then Tom gets to be here for everything, and before I know it, I have forgotten that I feel like death and my eyes flood with tears. Tom, for his part, is thoroughly confused as he watches my face shift.

“What is it?” he asks, and as I open my mouth, a tear falls forward and I am struck with so much emotion that I forget how to speak. It is in this moment that I realize just how deeply Tom and I connect and always have. We don’t exchange a single word as Tom takes in my expression, looks around us at the bathroom, then down at the floor, where I see him furrow his brow as he presumably does some of his own calculating. A long moment passes where I am convinced he isn’t going to come to the same conclusion, but then, at last, he lifts his head up and I see an amazing, sparkling array of emotions in those beautiful blue-greens and I know he has figured it out.

“Are you… are we…?” he manages to whisper.

“I’m not sure,” I tell him honestly. “But it makes sense.”

A whirlwind of activity happens right then. Tom’s face breaks into so many different emotions that it’s hard to distinguish which one he wants to express first. He leans in and kisses me on the cheek and then jumps back up, running into the other room, coming back in, and kneeling back down on the floor in front of me, texting furiously. I frown at him.

“What are you doing?” I certainly don’t want Luke knowing what’s going on quite yet. We aren’t even sure if we’re guessing correctly right now.

“Asking Luke to come by so we can run down to the shop downstairs,” he answers simply, finishing his text and slipping his phone back into his pocket.

I frown deeply. “Wait… what? You didn’t just tell him what’s going on, right?” I ask, thoroughly confused. Why do we need Luke in here again?

“Give me some credit, love,” he says, and he extends his hands down, indicating I should take them. I do, and he pulls me up slowly. “I want us to be the first to know.”

“Good.” I say, smiling as he holds me close. “So… why do we need him again?”

“We’re going to get a test,” he says matter-of-factly, kissing me on the forehead.

Before I think of a reason to protest, I realize how exciting this is going to be. Suddenly, my body doesn’t hurt, I am not achy, I am not nauseated, I am not tired, and I am certainly not depressed. I smile so wide that I feel like my face is going to crack, but I can’t help it. I am just so excited for this moment, and I take Tom’s hand in mine and give it a squeeze as I whisper, “You get to be here.”

Tom’s smile falters as he lets a tear escape his eye and he wraps me up in his arms, trying not to squeeze me too hard but wanting to hold me as tightly as he can. I put my head on his chest, in my spot, and feel the tears of joy spring to my eyes as well. A moment or two later, we hear a knock at the door and we break apart to let Luke in.

“Thanks for this, mate,” Tom says to him, patting him on the shoulder. “We’ll be right back.”

Emma looks up from her work, frowning. “Hi, Uncle Luke,” she says and then turns her attention to us. “Where are you going?”

“Downstairs real quick,” I answer her, still holding Tom’s hand tightly. “We’ll be right back, baby.”

She frowns again. “I wanna come!”

“Is your homework done?” Tom asks. I smile at Emma’s frustration and at Tom’s insistence. He did not get to love her from birth and he didn’t have to go through all the initial disciplining and raising, but Tom has truly stepped up and become an incredible father to our daughter. He’s not afraid to tell her no, put his foot down, and be the bad guy. In the past couple years, she has told him she hated him, and he had a really hard time for a night with this declaration, but I assured him that this merely meant that he was now officially a parent.

Before we have a chance to change our minds or confess what we are really doing, we disappear out of the hotel room. As soon as the door shuts, we look at each other, smile, and run to the elevator, still holding hands. I know that neither of us cares how we look amongst all these other festival goers, all of the professional people we have worked so hard to impress and keep happy in the past few months. None of it matters. I am still in my premiere dress, my hair a mess, no makeup, and Tom is only half ready to go with his face unshaven and his long curly hair unkempt. There is nothing we could care less about right now.

We get to the bottom floor, clinging to one another as we try not to run too fast or obviously to the shop, where we burst in and stand for a second, slightly embarrassed as curious hotel guests look over and see us. Fortunately, we do not know any of the people in here. The last thing we want right now is to make small talk when all we want to do is get in, get out, and get the test done.

Discreetly as possible, we grab what we came for and walk over to the counter. Tom tries to keep his head down but we are in and out without much of a fuss. The second we’re done, Tom takes the bag, wraps it up tightly and secures it under his arm. I take his hand and we scoot to the elevator, ride up, and then walk swiftly down the hallway to our room. The moment we get in, Tom quietly slips me the bag and I run into the bathroom without even acknowledging Luke’s confused expression as he sits next to Emma, helping her with her homework.

I hear Emma talking to Tom, asking if she can be done with her work and he reluctantly agrees since she has to start getting ready anyway. I do my business as steadily as I can because I am so nervous and excited for this to happen. I am thankful Tom gave me this second alone. I hear him in the other room getting things around as he is telling her that it’s about time to get dressed.

“Where did Mommy go?” she asks.

“She’s in the bathroom, I’m going to go check on her now, make sure she’s okay,” he says, and I hear him approach the door and then quickly slip in, latching it behind him. He turns to me as I replace the cap on the end of the test and set it on the counter. Now we have to wait five minutes before we get a positive or negative result.

I peer up at my husband and give him a wide, excited smile. He comes over and kneels down in front of me, taking my hands in his. He stares down at our clasped hands, stroking his thumb against the soft skin of my hand. We don’t speak. We don’t want Luke or Emma to hear us in the other room and words, right now, are not at all necessary.

I think of the possibility of doing this all over again, but with Tom this time and I want to cry with relief and joy. There is so much I wanted him to be a part of as it was happening and I have always felt guilty for not giving him the opportunity to do this. It is a special experience from beginning to end, every single step of it, and now he is here and I can feel how excited he is. He has forgotten that he is nervous about the film entirely. I don’t even think he remembers that we’re in Utah for Sundance, because for a moment I have as well.

This is all about to be worth it. Every single step of our journey together, no matter how hard the road was before I found Tom or the time in between when we weren’t together, at the end of it all, we are here together. We finally have each other and we aren’t going to let go again. There is not a single doubt in my mind that this is where I was supposed to be. As badly as I wanted things to go differently in that five years when we weren’t together, I can’t say that I regret any of it. I had Emma and I was able to grow up a great deal. Maybe I wouldn’t have been ready for a mature, loving relationship with Tom then. I obviously still had issues from my divorce and I needed Emma to help me conquer them and realize what was truly important.

And maybe all of that was supposed to lead up to this moment; our daughter in the other room, happy, fulfilled, and complete with both of her parents, us in the bathroom, holding hands in a silent, beautiful moment where we come to discover something extraordinary.

My heart is pounding and I cannot even begin to express all of the things I want to say to my husband if the test turns up positive. I give his fingers a slight squeeze and he looks up at me, our communication and language so synchronized that I only needed this small gesture to tell him I was ready to look at the results. He gives me the most enchanting, heartwarming smile, the one that I fell in love with seven years ago, the one that still makes me weak in the knees. His face lights up when, keeping my eyes focused on his, I reach up and grab the test, not daring to glance at it yet.

I take a deep breath and whisper, “Would you like to read it?”

Tom’s eyes brighten and he whispers, “I would like that very much.”

I hand it to him silently, waiting on bated breath as he turns it over in his fingers and after a solid minute, tears his eyes from mine and looks down at it. I keep my eyes trained on the top of his head, staring into the mess of gorgeous red curls that I am okay with passing down to another child. I am so anxious for him to tell me what it is but I try to keep calm and give him this moment, no matter how long, because he never got to experience it before.

“Samantha,” he whispers, and I can’t quite tell by his tone what the result is. He has spoken so quietly that it is almost hard for me to hear him. My heart pounds even harder in my chest and my stomach is doing flip flops as he raises his head, finally looking into my eyes. I gasp, because seeing those beautiful sea blue eyes full of happy tears is enough to know.

“Is it…?”

He nods, showing me the test. I look down and see the bright pink plus sign, the tiniest indication that we are adding another life to our little family. My heart soars and my eyes fill with tears that I do not bother stopping as they cascade down my cheeks.

“I love you,” I say, choking on my words as they come out.

“I love you,” he says, and his voice breaks as we both completely break down, together. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tightly. I squeeze him back.

He lifts his head up and looks down at me, sobbing as he pushes the hair out of my face and looks into my eyes. “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant,” I say.

And nothing else matters in this entire world when Tom whispers, “Thank you,” and folds me back into his embrace.

As I tuck myself into him, where I belong, I finally come to understand that the long, hard road we have both walked to get here was completely worth it for this exact moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to everyone for sticking with the story! I really appreciate your support. It feels like it's worth it to spend all the hours pouring my heart and soul into the story when so many people like it!
> 
> Don't forget to follow/bookmark if you like the story. There is a deleted scene and a sequel coming :) Stay tuned!!


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